Little Boy Blue

Fallen leaves on bended knees

Couldn’t withstand broken dreams

Of the boy who thought he could fly with bees

Without being stung.

Throughtout his past, the bruises grew fast 

Burying lies was a skill of mastery

For the boy who couldn’t bother honesty

Unless he wanted a belt to the face.

I questioned clouds of neighboring towns 

Could someone save a boy’s frown?

Told from the crowd who worshipped a harmless crown

That it is not worth being a saint. 

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