I was born out of fur and cotton,
With eyes that were shiny, black buttons.
From the store rack, I always watched the distant tree.
But one fine day, this little girl picked me.
My owner handled me with great care.
I was, after all, her beloved teddy bear.
I seemed to be her biggest comfort,
When she couldn't sleep or she felt troubled.
Years passed by and so did my time.
The little girl didn't need her teddy when she cried.
As I lay with the other toys in the attic,
I realized that my short life was quite tragic.
"Mr. Cuddles! Your child's best friend!"
But who's going to care about me in the end?
I played my part. I stayed with you.
But in the end this is what it came to.
Mr. Cuddles, the lonely one.
Who lies in the attic with his fur undone.
The cotton keeps falling out of his limb,
The once happy bear now lays grim.
-Wayward❤
I attempted personification for the first time. I kind of relate to this poem though. I feel like Mr. Cuddles. And that somehow is my greatest fear. I fear being unloved and forgotten. I hope I got the message delivered in the poem.
