"Are you mine?"
Mother is confused.
She's looking for a sign, the rest seem unmoved.
"Yes, you are mine!" the mother states with glee.
"You're small, and round, and helpless, but I can tell - from your blunt teeth."
"Most outside are friendly - the swift, the tall, who fly - being so close to ground, it's nice to have more eyes."
"Don't worry! Blunt teeth, and beaks, four feet... None here have sharp teeth, just stay close to me."
The Swift ones run away, the tall ones turn around - both with heightened senses, and stuck so close to ground.
Will make them run in fear - mother is confused, an evil monster is near - her young as she cannot lose.
Mother is to defend - slow but tough and strong - her young one not so behind her, the young bones.
Every twitch, another monster, mother is convinced. She'll never leave her youngster, even monsters do exist.
The young one cries out, but mother was too late.
The evil monster lunged and sealed the young ones fate.
Mother's instincts shattered
scared, confused of what became.
So round and small and helpless,
with only herself to blame.
With this broken mother, seems the evil does no good.
But the evil doesn't eat - the young was not its food.
The evil has its own young,
Evil, could these be?
"I think not," says their mother. Simply born with sharp teeth.