My Toy Chest Is A Fugitive

by Malcolm, under Poetry

My toy chest is a fugitive

And now it’s on the run

We think it stole memories

And then sold them for a gun


Old brown teddy’s on the porch

Smoking a cigar without a care

His shoe button eyes speak wonders

Though he never bothers to share


Raggedy Ann’s all dressed in black

But she smiles through the pain

I’m sure inside that fabric cloth

Her tender heart did wane


That cymbal monkey plays no more

And just a day after the county fair

Perhaps if he did have songs to sing

They would lay the truth out bare


Trinkets and treasures, mine to hold

Have bore witness to an ill deed

But only one gave in to the gold

And committed this vile treachery


My toy chest is a fugitive

And now it’s on the run

Careful if you find it though

Cause now it’s got a gun