Martin O'Neill - Babysitter

Shooting and bombing
And slashing and kicking
And burning and beating
And stomping and killing
And maiming and hurting
And knifing and punching
And dancing
Arms raised
Over the fallen
Broken bodies
Of his foes
On the other side of the Windows
Where Mummy doesn't go.
She's drinking a glass of Sauvignon Blanc downstairs
While her well behaved boy
Plays in his room, alone.
The babysitter isn't programmed
To care
As a childhood withers
On the untended vine
Of conversation
And connection.
He's caught the 4.0 Armageddon
Universal Serial Bus
To a place where
Darker fruit grows.
Try not to weep
As you reap
What you sow.

Martin O'Neill

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/babysitter/