helpiing them to death

It’s common in the human race,
They helped their son to death.
Might as well have covered his face
And robbed him of his breath.
They gave him everything he wanted
The dear child of their hearts.
But their bestowal of gifts, a bit vaunted
Were about them from the start.

The parents wanted everyone to see
How well they treated their kid.
But when it came time to say ‘no’
They went someplace and hid.
They ironed out the bumps in the road
So the kids never had to learn
What they should do when that road
Takes a sudden calamitous turn.

So, the kids, ignoring all good sense
Listened to their peers instead
And started finding external means
To fill up the inside of their head.
They learned life could be postponed
And so could ever growing up.
They could find some kind excitement
In something rolled or in a cup.

And who was there to stop their plunge
Into a kind of lost weekend life?
It certainly wasn’t their father for sure
Or his confrontation-free wife.
No, they didn’t want to piss the kid off
Because that would mean strife.
Let’s just leave the kid alone and watch
As she meets her demise over life.

It all started out when parents chose to
Become their kid’s best friends.
So, who was there to teach them things
Like hard work and discipline?
Who showed them the rewards to be found
In learning to postpone gratification
When they were sitting in front of the TV
Grossing out on mental masturbation?


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