Oh, Feral Child

What if no one cuddled or cared for their child?
If no one raised babies they’d roam free in the wild.

They might live in an old wrecked car or a shoe,
They might reign supreme on a mountain of  poo.

They might ride on the back of wolves or red foxes,
They might sleep wrapped in coupons in old mailboxes.

A feral child is stealthy without rattle or diaper,
They’ll sneak up behind you like a ninja or viper.
They’ve never been taught about potty training,
So wherever they go, poop will be raining.

Some ask, “Oh, Feral Child will you ever forgive us?”
But Feral children have not learned of forgiveness.
There is one thing I’m sure that they’ll do,
They will return when they’re older and then they’ll kill you.

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