Little Boy Lost
Poor Little Boy Lost plays a game of peekaboo
Pretending everything in his world is well
Spoiled was his plan for organizing a coup
and now he hopes none of his friends can tell
that he's been evicted as some had predicted
Biding his time, twiddling his thumbs in a cell
The entry door is locked. It's safe and secure
He's a cast away... on the outside, looking in
How much longer can he possibly endure
Is Little Boy Lost maybe missing kith and kin?
No one is listening to his babble and prattle
He wears the sorrowful look of sad chagrin
There was another sighting, just yesterday
when again he knocked on the playroom door
Not being allowed entry is the price to pay
for returning seeking praise with another encore
Bitterness smolders inside the blighted apple
where the wiggling worm is rotting the core
He was dragged off stage by the dreaded hook
No longer can he read his script in the limelight
because of the low road and wrong turns he took
A playground should not be a place meant to fight
Kiddies there have been getting along very well
Apologies, Little Boy Lost should be made to write
Copyright © Mark Koplin | Year Posted 2023
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