This morning, I woke up.
I saw the desk drawer open,
And a hand reached in and grabbed me.
This hand was new,
It was not the same.
It was small and clamy.
Nothing like my owner's.
This small new scary hand,
Shoved me into a dark place.
A bag of some sort,
Just squished by books and all other types of things.
I fell back alseep but hours later,
I was awoken again and thrust from my hiding spot.
I didn't mean to do it,
But there was nothing I could do.
I let out four cries,
All around the room.
As I look around, there are children on the floor.
What have I done,
What has it made me do.
The hand throws me to the floor and runs.
I want to apologize, but I've hurt enough.
These kids didn't deserve this.
My real owner's hand should've locked me up tighter.
So now I've got this on my head,
Until they burn me in fire.