There’s a moment everyone reaches
As they get older and see their parents
As irrational broken people
It’s a painful realization
To know your parents are more flawed than you
You’re equally disgusted and impressed
With everything they have achieved
How did they survive so long like this?
How did they manage to bring a child
Into this world? Then you remember
Everything that happened to you and what they did
They’d have been better off without children
And you think you’d have been better off
Never existing in the world
Procreation is for the selfish
From the poetry collection Cats, Coffee, Catharsis.
James Pack 