My face is ******
Because I've been picking at it 
don't worry I've felt worse pain
and if I had to I'd pick it off again it'd be no big deal
I'm sure it soon will heal
While I'm sitting in this room
And wearing this silly costume
I smear my blood all over the tile floors and on the door
Miss Monah
Took me from 
My insanity safe House
So I make a mess
And tear up this dress to make her feel a little more stressed
I told the woman Monah with one eye that I didn't need a babysitter
I asked her to reconsider 
Maybe we can just play
But she is stuck not in control
She said it's nothing personal
That some man with toys has sent her 
She told me he wants a playdate
So to put me out of my misery she's going to have to **** me
"Toyman knows where girlys go"
She said with a crooked smile all while holding that axe
Her ****** mouth curved up a little more and she screamed
"You didn't check on the child!" right before the blow found it's target a man opened the door could it be
Is that the toyman I see
Will he stop miss Monah from killing me

The final hours of the Sunday market
Chellama thought of how she'd spend the night-
Lonely, in her mother's company
Eating the fruit of her labour

Hearing a babyvoice call her name
She looked up and found-
With fire in his hair, a little man:
A sungod of a dwarf
Her toyman;
She felt the boars of fire
Bang on her inside
He asked for her hand

They rolled like dice
In the hay; only the dogs were near
(The urchins lifted cassava roots from her stall)

She found the dwarf had lost his fire
He turned cold and-
He was dead
Chellama pulled herself up and scampered to her stall and-
There, cooling herself down, thought of how she'd spend the night
Lonely, in her mother's company