Christmas.... ugh Isn't this a perplexing situation? I have an interesting question... First, I know this poem is not perfection But does any one know what it's like To be utterly alone on what's supposed to be A most joyous day, surrounded by friends and family? That annoying cherubic man Won't be visiting my home It's just an idiotic holiday And no one cares I'll be alone No homemade Christmas dinner I might make myself a grade A steak I'll raise a toast to myself Nothing to boast about Probably just whiskey, bottom shelf I immense-ly hate Christmas Say I'm dense-ly, I don't care Been that way as long as I can remember From the makeshift tree, when I was three To being stuck homeless in a snow drift at sixteen I can count all the "merry Christmas's" I've received On one hand It's never been merry, or happy Most I got was engorged on stuffing And a poorly cooked, dried out Turkey No presents under the tree With a gift tag saying Melanie
You know what? Sorry Quin, but this is too **** depressing... I quit...