When I was young
My mother would find
Creative ways to write back
To my letters to Santa

I didn't know it was her
Because when I went to bed
The cookies and milk were not touched
The carrot for the reindeer was still sitting there

When I was young
I believed that there were things
In this world that were not
Explainable
That there was some kind of
Magic

Around the age of 7
My friends started to tell me
That there is no Santa
That this was all a hoax
I believed them

I asked mother about it
She told me the truth

Suddenly
All the magic
That I ever believed in
Had disappeared

I realized
That life was not
Full of magic
Or beauty
But instead
Full of people
Always needing an explanation
For every thing

People on this dreaded planet
Have taken away
All senses of hope
And all the magic
That ever existed
(Did it ever exist?)