What a sad time of
the year
When people gather
round to clap around a cake on flames.
Singing a song
that’s only conventional
With happy faces
that don’t really care.
A mere duty, it
is, it seems.
Sitting in a crowd
of those who claim to love you
Pretending to love
them just as much
While all you can
think about is the moment this will be over,
So you can go home
and lay in your bed alone and cracked
With disgrace of
another year that will never come back.
It will never be
remorseful of the pain it contained.
What a sad time of
the year, indeed,
When people gather
around a wreck of a person that I am.
Singing a song
that that has been sung to me twenty times before.
With faces that
pretend to care.
A mere duty, it
is, it seems.
