Who's enjoying themselves
Not those standing in those long lines
Or those broke ticked up for 2017
What's going on with all the joy
We're has the fun gone
Look don't bother with consumerism
Let it go all that queuing lark
Get creative write a poem
For those you love
Make cake and give it away with glee
Kindness gives joy
Joy is happiness
Just whats  needed in this darkness
Merry kindness

who's the current holder of the shop's deed*
when did he obtain an ownership creed
we have pondered on this very matter
but no answer has yet come to the fore
that will satisfy our questioning score
we've long thought his plate shingle hung on the gate
with letters saying this is York's estate
though there's little of proprietary clatter
been audible at the place for some while
this has so troubled our concerned bile
on him displaying the paper's freehold  
we'll have ken of his legal possession
this will be a rock solid expression
*which is penned in ink ever so bold

Our love was a secondhand shop.
Faded and used,
you left me there,
decided you no longer wanted me.
I sit among the other used items
broken
and bruised.
Memories line the walls
and stock the shelves
of empty promises
and broken hearts.
Our secondhand love
is being sold at a discount price
with burn marks
and ripped holes.
You were just another girl
with clumsy hands
and missing pieces.
I slipped through your bony fingers
and you watched me fall
onto the dirt brown carpet.
I still have the rug burn to this day.
Your eyes
could burn holes through my skin
and melt me into the ground.
Our love was a secondhand shop
with memories burned into me.