Kids

Why is it my job

To help you raise your kid

You wanted the fucking thing

Didn’t you?

Either way, shouldn’t be my problem

But it is

Takes a village, my ass

Nobody raised me–

that was my job, too.

This village is run by gluttonous fools

Our “communities” are not.

They’re just not.

They’re not!

Stop lying.

There is no village, we are all

Struggling cities in the

Rust belt waiting

Jesus to take the wheel

If not Jesus than a Cheeto will do

America, the home of the brave

You know what brave heroes are prone to?

Ditching their kids at home with some bitch

While they’re off saving some universe,

Something else more urgent, more pressing

Some narcissistic delusion of self-worth

No matter what you’re doing

Work is how you prove your pudding

And men are the ones who do

The real work, right?

So yeah, give your kid to that chick over there

Give her something to do

Sexism is exaggerated, right?

Something SJW’s made up,

Something for the them’s to play the victim about

Well, then wonderful

I’m ecstatic!!

I’m selling my old soapbox,

And my protest won’t make the news.

If sexism is done,

Old hat, dead horse

Then let me speak freely about how much

Your kids were your idea, and I’m not

Some cunt who’s naturally supposed to

Like them and

Take care of them

It’s not selfish

To not have kids, and not want them.

It is selfish

To have kids

For your own selfish needs

Your own demands,

Your own ransom