Treasure Island

Alex Carr


Little Boy


Somewhere in another time
A little boy sits on a cliff
It's 5 or 6 and the sun is rising
His body is tired and stiff
He stares at the miles of fields
The orange and red sky
And from his eyes flow childish years
Something in him has just died
He's been sitting there cold and scared
Since the night before
When his dad got far too drunk
And kicked him to the floor
There's nothing I can do for him
I just wish that I could say
Keep your head up little boy
You'll grow up to see better days

Submitted: Thursday, May 09, 2013
Edited: Tuesday, September 17, 2013

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  • Alan Erbacce (5/16/2013 9:58:00 AM)

    UTTER drivel; has about as much to do with poetry as the poet's **** has to do with his/her elbow: -) (Report) Reply

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