This is more or less a verbatim retelling of the classic children's tale The Velveteen Rabbit. What a fucked up, sad, terrible book for children! Also, while the story tells us the rabbit made it out of the trash fire, the boy doesn't know that. He just comes home one day and everyone's like, "Hey! Welcome back! Have a good trip to the beach? Oh, by the way: we burned all your shit. Including that rabbit you loved so much." It reminds me of the time my step dad took my childhood stuffed animal and cut it up with his pocket knife as punishment for throwing a tantrum when I was in first grade.
When I was young I couldn't fall asleep unless I had my doll of velveteen.
We tunneled in the yard, played brigands and played ball; until I heard her calling
His ears, stomach, and tail had all been rubbed threadbare, at least that's what they tell me, because I didn't care
When I got sick I had a fever dream that my rabbit was whispering to me.
And in the dream he said if I got well again we'd go out in the garden and play such splendid games that he could hardly wait. I swear that in that moment my fever was broken.
When the doctor said we had to burn the bed, they sent me to the seaside, took everything I had, stuffed it in a bag, put a torch to it and waited until the flames died.
But how could they stand the screams when the fire hit his seams? I can't imagine how they'd feel if they knew he was real.