Toy Box Dreamer

I lay broken, twisted
Like the doll you bought me
So many Winters ago,
Back when I was just a child;

When I would cross the road
With your comfort by my side.
Mother and babe, fresh
And sweet from the smiles.

But now, holding your hand
No longer counts as a need
To be held by more than
Simple soft fingertips.

You cause the night screams
Rather than soothe them.
My sobs in the dark
Find comfort in your ignorance.

For I am still the child,
As I slip inside the haze-
Losing touch with reality
While dreams lose touch with me.