I am NOT Your Toy

I am NOT your Toy.
My body is NOT
ball jointed plastic limbs
bendable for your covetous cock play

Don’t you dare treat
my ass cheeks as
a water wiggly gift shop souvenir or
stress ball

my clothes as
sweatshop processed
$9.99 FASHION TREND-PJ PARTY
industrial duplicated sets
that can be hastily peeled open
desultory stretched
the mismatched velcroed desecrated
while you eagerly exploit your
fairy tale wet dreams
on my raw gullible unconsciousness
and closed eyes.

There is no corporate
BARBIE™ branded tramp stamp
for your
shriveled juvenile hands
to trace.
You had no right to search for it.

Don’t you dare cuddle into my body
as your bedtime teddy bear
arms chaining me in a smothering fondle
fingertips grazing my “smooth” skin
comforting your nightmares,
your stress
while I idle there wretchedly possessed

And when you got bored?
You left me vacant
wedged between toy box walls
and your bed.

You may think you are clever, creative
treating our friendship as
ken and barbie make-believe
puppeteering my emotions
with your tongue’s tangled strings
But I will not play house.
You wanted to play this monopoly
You scammed your way around my risk borders
forcefully landed on MY property
when it was not your turn.
No more trading, cutting deals.
I might not send you to jail, but you still
do not pass go.
do not collect $200.
You will pay the tax of
rolling the dice and landing wrong.

Grow up. I am not your toy.

Guide that inspired this poem: 

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