TS (03/24/1978 / Mass)

Lost (Poems Of Horror)

Little Princess, Little Prince,
hanging from a ledge,
don't let go, don't you know,
you've fallen from the edge?
Crows will come and see you there,
birds will chirp on by.
Something big will linger there,
as you wail and cry.
Night will come and the dark will rise,
and monsters will start to wake.
But no one will come to help you yet,
best be quiet for your sake.
Soon day will break and the sun will
shine,
and a hunter will venture through.
But at the edge there'll be nothing there,
Oh, poor little one- where are you?

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