by philip larkin

they fuck you up, your mum and dad.
they may not mean to, but they do.
they fill you with the faults they had
and add some extra, just for you.

but they were fucked up in their turn
by fools in old-style hats and coats,
who half the time were soppy-stern
and half at one another’s throats.

man hands on misery to man.
it deepens like a coastal shelf.
get out as early as you can,
and don’t have any kids yourself.

philip larkin was many things - no nonsense poet, progressive librarian, unexpected lothario, friend of kingsley amis (inspiration for lucky jim), and probably racist. but in writing this poem, he became the voice of this thought every person with a parent has had at some point in their miserable life.