Son of the Dark Age

My son
I will tell you to be weary
Of those-who-walk-on-two-feet

They can be crude
They can be rude
But it is true, they'd be shrewd

They have a way
To find their prey
Using, some say, magical weapon

You need to know
None of this, though
Is as real as your string of bear claws

Open your cage
Turn a new page
Look for your way, forget your rage

Follow the Sun
You're not a pawn
Forge your future in this Dark Age