Let’s get a little personal. I love this poem because it reflects my current thoughts on having children as well as my personal experiences with, well, being born, alive, and raised by two fucked up people. This is straightforward, painfully honest, and views parenthood in a way that most poetry does not. Without further adieu, here’s the poem as well as the source:
They fuck you up, your mum and dad.
They may not mean to, but they do.
They fill you with the faults they had
And add some extra, just for you.
But they were fucked up in their turn
By fools in old-style hats and coats,
Who half the time were soppy-stern
And half at one another’s throats.
Man hands on misery to man.
It deepens like a coastal shelf.
Get out as early as you can,
And don’t have any kids yourself.