Sparkatale

I was just to be a doll on the shelf of a little girl. Only there when I was needed to be pulled down, hugged, squeezed, and put back.

The little girl didn't even know which toy she liked the most. She had many toys to play with too.

She pulled me off the shelf in jealousy when other little girls wanted to hold me.

I wanted to be her favorite, but I knew I wasn't treated like a toy was supposed to be treated.

But I stayed on that shelf with my smile.

For I knew my role as the toy.

I was given up, thrown into the dark toy chest where I can't see anything.

She found another toy to play with,

to show off, to be excited about.

I was taken out of the chest and put back in the box and back on the shelf in the toy store.

The plastic covering in front of me, the twists around my limbs, and the smell of cardboard

Its so familiar. Home.

Home was never on the shelf in the little girls room, it was here.

To be looked at by other little girls.

Its too small compared to her shelf.

I'm worn now, they can tell.

I have scratches on my eyes, dust in my fur, stuffing leaving my creases.

My asking price doesn't match my quality. 

My box is dented and crinkled.

I'm not even acceptable in the clearance bin.