It’s wrong, it’s unpleasant, it’s tough to think about,
but sometimes you wanna kill that baby.
That thing you nursed for your whole sorry life
which is now in someone else’s arms,
that thing you gave up and didn’t think you would miss,
that load of work you’re better off without,
that thing with its smiling new parents whose faces
are just asking to be ripped off-
that baby won’t grow to be anything like you
and for that, you’d rather it dead.
Oh, what kind of parent are you not to stand
by your decision for its benefit?
What kind of claim do you possess to deny it
any kind of life without you?
Though you were wise you’re still human enough
to take it all back in a rage;
though once you let go you’re still human after all,
and sometimes you wanna kill that baby.