Babies

Hating babies is inherently self-hatred.  Hating babies is inherently self-hating.  To not want is another thing.  Hating?  It’s self-degrading.  It’s self-undermining.  It’s self-limiting.  It’s self-threatening.  It’s fear.  What is it you hate?  A thing that could make a mistake?  A thing that could destroy what you make?  A thing that leaves mess in its wake?  A thing that needs help.  A thing that needs to be held.  A thing that wants lasting attention.  That screams until held.  A thing that has wants.  A thing that knows want and won’t rest until it’s fulfilled in its wants (are you jealous? do you wish you could persevere?  have someone care to work for your wants?  it was meant to be you…).  A thing that’s a burden.  A thing that needs help.  No man is an island to himself.  Demands help.  A thing that is selfish.  It is fixed in its standards.  Oblivious to the world around it.  Thinks only of the world known inside it.  A thing that is ugly.  A thing that you don’t want to look at.  Greater comfort unseen than unlooked at.  Who doesn’t look at you?  You’ve been wailing.  You were best left unseen.  Better unseen than ignored and wailing.  Unlooked at.  Needs help.

Anyway, what are you?  What kind of thing will I call you?