Toys
J
James McLain
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My legs are are tanned.
I’m am too handsom.
She says I am delisious.
She says I am too sexy
She says she loves to hate me.
But my eyes are always shinny,
wet with tears.
I was never just a kid.
I know that I still am.
But I’m am her toy.
I am her boy
She is my mother
I am not her husband.
And still, I am her boy.
She has to many toys.
I make her look at me.
I beg her,
not to touch me, there then.
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