Often dead before we’re born;

Brief flickers, then from life torn.

Mom and Dad had not planned us;

We can tell by how they cuss.

We emerge sick and deformed;

See what drug abuse re-formed.

Malnourished, our bodies starved,

In our souls abyss are carved.

Here exploited, now abused,

Innocence lost as we’re used.

So we blossom as warped souls

And adopt our fiendish roles.

Where was God as we were teased,

Deprived, mangled, roughly seized?

Now no longer “that poor child”;

We are spawns of hell--and wild!