They fuck you up, your dearest kids.
They sometimes mean to when they do,
their lives a wreaking of revenge
on one slow target: that is you.
But they were fucked up by your plans
to give them what you never had.
Your dearest dreams, those also-rans:
unwitting schemes to make them sad.
Humanity’s a risky bet
for stakes beginning with a kid.
It’s the fucking that you get
for the fucking that you did.