Good job,
No,
Great job,
Now look what you've done,
You got a whole mob in front of you,
And you had just one job,
As the mother of a son,
You have failed to improve what is yours,
And now he is simply,
Worthless, 
He means nothing to the world,
As of me,
It is only he,
That now can fend for himself,
For now of everything that falls against him,
May he only see,
What he may take by a whim,
For it is not what he has done,
But for what he did not do,
So now that there is nothing left,
There's nothing left to turn to,
He shall rot with the earth,
And stay stuck at birth,
And rebirth as the dirt,
Only to be stepped on,
He will no longer be what you thought,
But more of what satisfies in order to be bought,
And you will ignore his sight,
For how tasteless and bland he may be,
But also how boring and slick you see,
You see,
He is just like everyone else,
Homeless,
Worthless,
Good for nothing,
And to think you gave birth for something,
When you could just easily,
Throw him away,
And one day,
You would pass by him, 
While he sits in a lion's den,
Waiting to be eaten...
Waiting for his death,
But no, 
This is not,
The First Time