In days of youth, when life was new,
A boy so dear, a tale to do,
With his eyes bright, and spirits bold,
He captured hearts, young and old.
His belly button, round and deep,
Inviting fingers to seep,
And in it secret pure and true,
A treasure kept, for me and you.
One day, an arrowshot shot, precise,
Through navel pierced
The boy, now wounded, bleeds inside,
His innards spill, with sorrow’s tide.
And so he falls, his belly scarred,
His spirit’s broken, he’s afraid,
But in his heart, a secret lies,
But we won’t know it for boy dies.
More poems by Poetry Slave
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- Arrow through the bellybutton poem
- In shadows of night
- The Snake
- Putin, Our Savior and Dear Friend
- Shame
- A Poem about Lemonade
- About Wedding Dress
What’s all the rave? It’s the Poetry Slave! Enslaved by the art, and free at his heart, he’s a versifier and his verse burns with fire. he is honest and brave, the Poetry Slave.