The Story of a Toy

This is a tangible life, not a story of toys from your youth
I feel as a collectors item, stored and conveniently placed on the top shelf
Till a time that's proper and fitting, to be brushed off and the cob webs removed

I'm inclined to wonder if your glance has digressed
From up on the top shelf, I'd say your lines are meshed
I'm happy to remain unshelfed, but my inquiry still stands
Do you confuse Pinocchio with a real boy?

The propagated waves that hit me say "Do not open, collectors item"
Now my nose would surely grow if I didn't openly admit
My time up high on the shelf has a more acute angle than I'd prefer
And I can't decided just yet, with confidence, "you've forgotten"

And yet, the life persistently passes our of my patient position on the shelf
Whether you'll like it or not, I'm not sure and doubt you see the effects
But I'm phasing and its become hazy am I real to you or just a toy?
Was I convienent for a time; I'm unsure, but perfectly still I lie
Keep in mind that dust accumulates on neglected things, be it a toy or a boy