My Toy Chest

Have you ever held the broken toy of a child,
As they beg and plead with snotty noses,
Teary eyes;
Sounding to all the world so brokenhearted.
A laugh bubbles up, and you want to pat their head,
Ruffle the soft hair of that young toddler,
Saying; "Dear... Don't fret, we'll get you a new one."

When you know in your deepest of hearts, that it's not so simple.
That once you to held a broken toy out to a parent,
Begging and pleading for your dearest friend to be fixed!
So you swallow the laugh,
You hunker down, and attempt to glue the toy together again.

The joy in their faces when the broken has been mended,
Fills you with unbridled pride and hope.
The continued screams should the repair be to beyond your capabilities,
Makes you suddenly, regrettably, the worlds biggest failure,
And the wailing tears only accent to that.

That is me, I am broken beyond repair,
But no one feels guilty over it.
Instead they look at me and define everything that's wrong!
I am fine as I am, they say.
With words I can't begin to speak,
They know me, when I don't know myself.

Handing out the parts of my body and mind to anyone willing to grab.
Who will look and listen to my sobbing.
And when they reach out their hand, only to mock me!
To placate me, the more I whither away.
I am whole they say, well and fine and loved.
But not for the reasons that are me!
Its as if an older sibling took my treasured toy and glued a part that doesn't belong, but the world says it does.
That it looks better.

Nothing about this is better!
I'd scrape it off with a knife, if only I were allowed the tools.
What about this is right?
What about my body can you begin to understand?
Why can't you look at me, hunker down, and help me find the cure?
To undo what has been so hastily glued on me.

Don't toss me aside like this.