Children,
What wretched vile demons walk among thee,
With their bulbous heads and tiny eyes,
And nomenclature view of the world.
Some are smart,
Others? Good luck.
Your desire to have one diminishes my inner s*ut.
Don't think once, or twice, or thrice
That I would ever consider such bipedal lice -
Blood s**ers, robbers, a senescent heist!
I refuse to conform to your idealistic vice.
I tell you now, if no children you bear,
A bullet you'll have dodged,
And a tombstone, ne'er!
SWOOSH goes the bullet by your head,
A bullet of gilt.
Do not think you've not embraced life,
Indeed, this is only...
Survivor's guilt.