How many dead things do we bring to life
In the hopes they'll keep us safe at night?
Their skins adorning fleece or down
Mouths stitched so they can never frown
Handed to children, held to sleep
Clutched to comfort those who weep
A hundred worries put to rest
As they lay watchful on our chests
How long can the dead be kept alive,
As they lose shades with each daylight?
So now ages later, worn and thin
We change them out for newer skin
