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Saturday, September 19, 2015

Weeping Christmas


The calendar says that a good time is coming,
But my heart doesn’t wish it were here,
They say it would be the very greatest time in the whole of the year;
Which I believed...yes, which I did believe!
I can remember that I had been counting each day on my fingers
The weeks that must pass before Santa Claus comes.
Till the music of excitement stopped!

When the snowflakes came down
And I remembered nothing but Santa Claus’ frozen lips
The stillness of the environment
Dried and confused petals scattered on the ground
Plunging myself into the ocean of heartbreaking tears
Nostalgia pains me against an empty stocking.
He perfectly knew what I wish to receive
Yet, Santa Claus is no longer coming.

The wind screams so sharp
And the black butterfly resting after an evening rain
Falling leaves everywhere...
Branches are turning down.
Then the shadows of oblivion all over the place.
No serenity...just a hunger of longing
The biting pain worsening my sick self.

The cold is here...the winters of my grief...
My fingers are numbed
One, two, three and a deep breath
Santa Claus wont come on Christmas Eve!
Then who will fill my stockings?
When Mom and Dad are no longer here...

September 19, 2015
4:15 p.m.




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