No, THIS be the verse

(after Philip Larkin)


A life as tired, wracked and wrecked
  (as a parent's life will bend)
would seem a stream you'd not expect
  to reach a fruitful end.

As loss of sleep from infant wail—
  then teenage Ragnarok—
gives way to 3 a.m. travail
  awaiting key in lock.

You could predict a murderous tide
  in every family den
and epidemic fillicide
  and few grown women or men.

Yet here we are, among the years,
  to raise our deepening cup
and say to mom and dad, "My dears,
  you've really fucked me up."