My father did not fuck me up.

He did not mean to, and did not.

He filled no bitter heirloom cup

With all the faults that he had got.

Though his own father scorned his son

And cold contempt up to the brim

Was poured on him, my dad was one

Who felt the rot should stop with him.

We choose the route we travel by,

Not some perpetuated curse.

Have kids, and love them. Give the lie

To that old glib and callous verse.

-- Adrian "Cavalorn" Bott

(of face leopard fame)