2012 Poetry: The Lost Boy

When Billy was a small kid

He lived with wild dogs.

He ate the prickly bushes,

And he slept among the logs.

 

Billy was a small kid

But strong and mean and quick.

When he was teased by the other kids,

He would hit them with a stick.

 

The other children’s parents

Would raise their voices and say,

“Billy you’re a bad kid.”

Then, they’d chase him away.

 

But Billy was a smart kid

Although he lived with wild dogs,

And ate the prickly bushes,

And slept among the logs.

 

The parents would soon get tired

And turn to walk away.

Then, Billy would circle back,

And not a word he would say.

 

Although, Billy was a small kid,

He was strong and mean and quick.

When the parents weren’t looking,

He would hit them with a stick.

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