An Unclaimed Son
Marked out as something that did not belong, An oddball with a number not a name; A newborn whose hereditary was wrong, And with ancestry
"this is sixth form poetry, not Keats or Yeats"
Marked out as something that did not belong, An oddball with a number not a name; A newborn whose hereditary was wrong, And with ancestry
The white storks glide across the sky, Migrating south in times gone by; But now like Burroughs in his funk, These flying beasts are hooked