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
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