I'm their plaything. They toy with my emotions, and wait for me to crack. Time moves on, and this remains. I'm nothing more than their idle plaything. Nothing more than a dress-up doll, to put on display, just some old pose-able figure. I'm at their mercy, incapable of attack, unable to defend. I simply sit there on a desk, waiting for them to return, to put me in a new pose, to give me a new outfit for the day. I wait as my arms are pulled into a new place, as a shirt is slipped over my head and down my torso, and I'm placed on the desk next their bed. They walk out, and close the door. I sit there and await their return. Their room is small, and dark. The only light coming in through the slit between the blinds on the window. The light falls on the floor before me. Its not much, but it allows me to see. I simply sit there, on the desk top, waiting for their return. This my routine, I'm dressed, I wait, they return, and I am dressed again. Its all that happens to me. My only life. Its all I've known for some time now. The sun grows a little lower in the sky; they will be home soon. I grow anxious, as I wait for that familiar person to come back t me, and adjust everything about me. My face my pose, my attire, it all is changed by this one person. They finish adjusting things, and put me back on the desk. They lay on the bed next to the desk, and follow their own routine. Time goes further on. The sun, is long gone, behind the rooftops and the horizon, on its way to light the rest of the world. They leave the room, and I hear water. They are bathing. They return. The dress, and bid me a good night. I'm their plaything. It's all I know. And I love every second of it all. . .