Ward of The State

There's nothing fundamentally amiss with the kid,
that appropriate measures shouldn't be able to remedy.
So, he can't stand straight, and he can't stay put,
and he wears his pants down to his knees,
and his shoes fall off every so many steps.
It's nothing that couldn't be fixed
with back to back novenas to Saint Jude.

Okay, so the imp smiles a gap of missing teeth,
and yes, his grin is a bit moronic,
but moron is a clinical term, relative to who whom is measuring.
Alas, everything is screwed up with the little bastard,
but with tender loving care you might be able to patch it from here to November.
It ain't like you're trying to fit an elephant into leotards.
From this day forward, raise the 19 year old toddler
to think like a soldier, careful you don't turn him into a hired assassin.

His grandparents have a task before them.
Corporal punishment is a no-no, unless executed before the tri-semester.
And by the way, whatever happened to his natural parents?
Well, Dad died at age 18 from an overdose of inhaling formaldehyde,
and Mom died last year from extra marriageable complications.
There's nothing wrong with the child,
that wasn't dropped on him from the crib.
And speaking of cribs, there's a gang of thugs in Memphis, called "The Cribs,"

whose specialty is extortion and murder.