There’ an orphaned child

There’s an orphaned
Playful child
Within
That only wounds
Can free
When the blood is drained
The boy is free

There’s a musty smell
From his parents bedroom
That he does not like:
Worse than a grave
Is the bedroom of the living

There he discovers
A friend in a small music box
Its music is sweeter
Than the music on the radio
And it’s revolving ballerina
Is his first love

Author: blackbird212012

I am interested in multimedia work: songwriting, art, and creative writing. I have been involved also in theatre and music performances. View all posts by blackbird212012