Little Boy Blue

I don’t know how to start The story that I want told The parts that chill me to the bone And makes my blood run cold When I was but a little child And they thought it not be heard Though I was busy with my play I attended to each word Never spoken above a whisper Barely breathed the truths come out The darkness that lived within our town Beyond gruesome was no doubt A mother and her children small While sleeping in their beds Were each accosted everyone And then were left for dead The father when returning home Was horrified at the question That he would kill his family Made him ill at the suggestion He was overwrought and confused Did someone have their four year old Was he safe, was he well This is where the darkness Becomes a mystery no one would tell Where’s the little boy That looks after the sheep Why he’s under the haystack Dead asleep Written for Debbie Guzzi's 'Something wicked this way comes' contest