There’ an orphaned child

There’s an orphaned
Playful child
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.

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