Sitting in that coner,
Looking at the situation,
Despite feeling sober,
Waiting for explanation.
Kinda lost boy,
Still sitting aside.
So many toys,
But they're not mine.
Tired of these bursts,
Of "Stop goofing around"
I can say "It hurts"
And fall on the ground.
I act like a killer
Every alien toy.
Not kinda but really
I'm a lost boy.