Like children in a candy shop, their look holes eviscerated by the eye candy,
Stuff them in with vanity instead, little ones,
You know their worth is just what you shove down their throat,

For a few dollars, little ones, you can tame them, control them, and play them as dolls,
Or if you want you could have her sister, mother, father, and brother, but the last two identify as dutch wives,

Don’t forget to check if they’ve added new letters to the alphabet, ‘cause moving with the times can be cheaper, and as hard as it may seem, you can convert an L into an H or a B, as their foundation’s so brittle, just flash a dime, and it will crumble down,

Little ones wanna group, discuss having a coup, while eating truffle soup,
Their hands so clean, so soft, not a workday to count,
“Daddy this” and “daddy that” while fighting the patriarchy,

“THAT’S THEIR FREEDOM YOU BACKWARD THINKER” jumped the little-neophyte-liberal-wanna-be puppy.

Little ones, don't be like the educated fool who claim to know,
Coloured a scholar, and followed on,
Leading the unknown to the land of 'I',
Then walked all over the pool of pale secretions.

Eisa S.M.
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