Messages from My Soul

The Pessimist 'Gainst Christmas

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.