children don't see what their parents see:
the same mistakes, made by half of the same blood
cells that they helped make and want to perfect
what they don't know is, they were also young
that everyone makes mistakes so they have regrets when old
children bring misery to *all* parents, not just you
cells combine, make a person, a freak accident mixture of two people
what could possibly go right with that?
what are the odds you'll have a great kid?
they're slim, i'll tell you.
real.
slim.
i'd know. i'm one of these kids.
1 comment:
Haiyo ! I am reminded of my recent status from Emily Dickinson's poem.
"I'm nobody! Who are you?
Are you nobody too? Then, there's a pair of us - don't tell!" LOL. We need to drink to this poem, really.
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