Pitiful child, born by chance
Into a house that was haunted.
Quite the shock and surprise;
Ghost of Christmas Child Unwanted.
There he was with all his need
The wreck of so many plans
Of weekends movies and bars.
Too much for Mom to understand.

Pretend for the neighbors, then
Because that’s why you wed.
It was better to be pregnant.
Seen as gay? Worse than dead.
Or seen as weird, crazy, strange
Or in any other way un-weddable
Was something horrifying to them
And sure to turn out regrettable.

Pitiful child, grew up in the way.
Nothing to hope for at end of day.
Food, shelter, clothing, and told
That’s all kid is entitled to anyway.
None of this mollycoddling;
Nothing more, no true nurture.
What else could come about
But a dismal hope for the future?

It’s all about the relationship
Between the kid’s Mom and Dad
And anything that draws focus
Means the kid is being bad.
So, beat the kid again, slap him
Make him go without his meal.
Make him understand that rage
Is something expected and real.

Pitiful child, has no more trust
That the world will ever relent
And make a place for him to be
Until fires of hell are all spent.
Armageddon itself can come
And he knows that his parents
Will still be there to point out
It’s because he is totally errant.


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