A baby left on some doorsteps,
Its soul tattered and torn.
Nothing much remains of the baby,
No love, no feelings.
Nothing left, except a dirty diaper and a torn t-shirt.
The baby cries, and no one feels sorry,
As no one's home to notice the tiny baby.
Finally as what seems like days,
Someone wanders by and notices the innocent baby.
"Poor thing" she muttered.
She picked up the baby and gave it love.
The baby stopped crying.
She fed the baby and fed it a bottle.
She loved the baby like it was her own.
