Oh, plush bear.
I always see you standing there.
In toy stores,
in bedrooms,
on graves.
If I saw you any less,
I probably wouldn't care,
but you have that dead inside stare
like a hunted hare,
so that makes us kin.
Cohabitants of an inflated sin.
You watch as humanity changes.
The camera inside
records every nano-second.
The files were sold to a porn site.
Its content excites hundreds.
The actors;
they all looked like they had recently cried.
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