The Small Pink Rabbit
A small pink rabbit, sitting on my bed.
White floppy ears and an unstable head.
Tucked into a blanket, of Whinny the Pooh,
looking at stuffed animals thinking I'm no better than you.
Sitting on a bed of twin size,
sometimes herself, or in a desgise.
Bow coming undone,
from all her fun.
Is kept in bed, when not in a game or scene,
backing down from the humans, always so mean.
Does she feel lonely, or maybe controled,
but helplessly sitting there, for the future to unfold.
Every night, so very long,
a little girl comes, to sing her song.
She may curl up against her beloved Cuddles,
before slipping into into dreams, and her own befudles.
Than the girl leaves again, leaving Cuddles to her own mind,
though the rabbit will promise that the girl is kind.
She knows that the day is soon,
when a girl with plushies is considered a befoon.
The rabbit knows this semi-good life will draw to a close,
her big brown eyes, and little pink nose.
Put in a garbage can, and driven far away
to where the now-big-girl won't come to play.