To Be Hit

What does it feel like
To be hit
Again and again
And AGAIN?!
It impacts, clutters
And depresses
The tender mind
Of a youthful child,
Makes it close itself off
To all sense, reason and apology;
Invokes fear, anger and resentment.
I bet Nemesis would be on her throne,
In her godly realm,
Watching keenly,
Enjoying the animosity she's caused.
But why let
The Goddess of Revenge win?
Why allow her
To twist our minds,
Trigger our hatred,
And make us enemies?
Why give her that satisfaction?
Why hit little children?
To prove our point?
Or to serve our broken ego?
Oh, puh-lease, parents!
This is not your Golden Era.
It's the 21st century.
Hit once
And BAM!
You will lose
The best thing that you had,
Forever.
Your little one won't take that hit
As some absurd joke
Or a proud mark on its body.
That scar will be a taint;
A bitter mark of steel
Imprinted for a lifetime
On mind, body and soul.
You'll never know
When your child will slip away
From your powerful, orthodox grip
And blend into the shadows,
Into the abyss of pain, rage and madness,
Of deep-rooted shame,
Struggle, negativity and embarrassment.
Suit yourself, parents,
And beware.
What kind of parent
Would you want to be?
The one that hits,
Compares and harasses?
Or the one that loves,
Gives and tolerates?
Because what you choose
Will shape the kind of future
You and your child will entertain.
Future will decide
Whether by the end of your days
You'll have a child by your side
Or a distant and aloof spirit,
Only for name's sake.