69 - Holidays

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White blankets made of snow,

Drape over the already frosted ground,

Envelop me too, I beg of you,

For nowhere is warmth to be found.

I'm wary of the holidays,

Pretentious pomp and cheer,

An excuse to forget the melancholy,

That you bathed in all year.

Wrapping temporary joy,

In glossy, slippery paper,

Unwrap to reveal a poor attempt,

At concealing misery you'll feel later.

Lights on every corner and house,

Lights choking a spruce tree,

I hope the lights pervade the night,

So from the darkness you'll be free.


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