Take those decades of resentment
Rolling around in tortured minds
And set them just behind the heartache
Created out of silver piercing words
That were uttered so long ago.
Dress it up with red like all the
Blood that’s spilled from broken
Knuckles, and hearts torn through
Out our time. Let the snow
Place a blanket over hate
And old vicious addictions
Wrap it up in shiny nice ribbons
Pretty and so scantly hidden,
Underneath the green pine
The smell of hope squelched
By disappointment that can’t be helped
And the sort of familial dysfunction
circled around the Christmas tree.
The smell of food and treats
The sound of jokes and laughter on the brink
For one to think they have been crossed.
For one tortured soul to think too loudly
That it’s too late, they are lost.
Balancing on the edge living momentarily
To the explosive nature and fast pursuit
Of broken people put together in a single room
Face to face with how reality
Has made them their bitch,
Itching at demons
Screaming as there seeing that not the all of them
Could hold the Curtin up, and magic in
And let Christmas be Christmas for a kid.
But people don’t like to hear you don’t like
Christmas.
That snow melts in your socks
Or why broken glass reminds you of
Wrapping paper and ribbon.