He's tattered and he doesn't know why
The patches in his fur are stitched
By loving hands
Too poor to give him any better

Lines of black amidst
Platinum grey
The scars from wounds
Long ago healed, closed, regretted
But not forgotten

He stares at you in the dimness
With eyes like twin splotches
Of octopus ink on fabric
Bulbous velvet ears
That listen when you think
There's nothing to hear

His little blue button nose
Rubs good-naturedly into your hand
As he lowers his head
Because he is shamed
By the perfect world around him
While he sits aside
Torn
Broken
A tribute to neglect

Yet still his eyes shine
They glimmer in the summer heat
He hopes one day
To be great, great like the stars
That he sees every night

A/N: WHAT IS UP WITH ME AND POEMS?!
Alright alright. Another one from me. This one is just plain weird, so
flame me. Inspired by the tatty bear on my table.