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