The little prince

Just trying something

As the little prince walked out of his world
He asked what all he left in it
Would people remember
Would anyone care
But alas all that was left was the flower
With it 4 thorns
Fighting tigers.

But tigers come in all shapes
And they come in all sizes
The Tigers haunt his dreams at night
All he wants is to walk away but
But he can't seem to leave quite yet.

For who will fight off the Tigers
The ones that haunt others night terrors
Who will be there to make the toast
Or crumple the paper
The Tigers are everywhere
The rose has only 4 thorns

Who shall fight the Tigers now?
Is what the little prince wonders

Author's Note

It's rough but it's what holds me back

Reviews

[t.m.]

This is a tough one. Coded, as poets tend to do, but I understand. I hope that you log on soon so that I may ask you a question, both regarding this poem and another matter. And I was right. Excellent work, as per usual.