His best friend was a toy.
He had no one to talk to,
In his world, they were only two.
His parents thought he was lonely,
But he wasn’t, he just liked his toy only.
Of course, His toy would always listen
While he talked and his eyes would glisten,
Because he was so passionate about what he said
But no one understood what was going on in his head.
They all thought he needed some kind of aid
But he wasn’t insane nor was he is pain.
He would tell them he was different, in vain
They would sometimes be worried,
Other times their concern seemed buried.
Did he have a problem or did those who were not able
To give him support, the ones who were not stable?