THE PESSIMIST 'GAINST CHRISTMAS
The Christmas coming I'd tell you I don't feel
That it'd come a-knocking at my door next morn
For the days passing by sang ne'er of its revelling
But of an elegiac tune, forlorn.
In the merry lights of Yule saw not I a color
Nor any of its joyful smiles I knew;
Hate still reigns, and Christmas is the lie
That tells us life is good and true.
I pity the children beneath the Christmas tree
For in this turmoil have they not the right to care;
Deceived by the promise of a hideous creature
That would leave his gifts to them by there.
Hypocrites professing their love for another
With tainted keepsakes trying to hide envy inside deep;
Perverse desires draped in a fake innocence
Awash in lies one is forced to keep.
Oh no, Christmas, over here come not,
Cloy me not with your sugary song;
I've seen within you, seen more than enough
And all its lights are none but wrong.