Sonnet #68

It used to be you couldn’t raise a kid

Without a stick to beat them with, hard
If you weren’t leaving bruises, solid hit
across the backside, they should be scarred
By brutal beatings, when they were really
really bad, they should point to the marks
And tell the story of how love futilely
tried to beat some sense into their hearts
Life was supposedly harder back then
So everyone had to be ready to fight
Diseases swept through and wars took the men
And industry chewed up the children in coal light
As if that hasn’t changed, we pretend we do not harm
As if life is so much easier, we pretend we’re safer, warm
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