Poor Nord

15 years young
A baby in fact
Captured we know
In fact they attacked
His right to be wild
Not captured to be
Gawped at and fed
Really unnaturally

15 years sadly
And death came where he
Was mentally hurt
When he could, wildly
Have been in a pod
A social group
Where he could have been
Cock of the hoop

And now he has gone
At a young age
His future his spirit
They wiped off the page
Poor Nord all his hopes
And his wishes appear
To have been dashed by the wayside
His sadness I hear

RIP Dear Soul