My Child Poem by Peter Vealey

My child, my boy
I won't bring you into this crazed room
We call life.
I wanted so much for you.
Yet this world offers so much in variety
So little in quality
Love's a dormant word to describe a
Thousand sins.
I'm a purist, puritanical maybe.
My child
I will never bring you in here,
Although there's a million sights
I'd still love you to see.
Boxes of darkness
We call houses n' committee rooms
Where we plot n' defend
Our actions
So where is the love?
We've been preaching the
Phrases & cliches,
Like cheap food
Like truths going out of
Fashion.
My boy, my baby girl
It's not that I need
You to inflate my ego.
Widen my personality (horizons)
But when it's all weighed up
Everyday it seems to be getting
So bad,
That no-one could wish all
This hatred and tragedy,
On anyone they loved.
And so my child,
My lovely child.
You will stay as a
Loved regret.