12/21/14
I should be glad, is what they say.
But there’s no joy on Christmas Day.
I won’t be glum and spoil their fun;
I’ll show a smile ’til season’s done.
My soul is dry, my heart is cold,
My final years cannot be gold.
The wound within is far too deep.
No happiness will ever keep.
My love, my joy, my darling wife,
Found this the day to lose her life.
So now I journey on alone.
No strength remains in flesh or bone.
I put a face upon this shell,
That none may see my inner hell.
But if this year I have my way,
I too shall leave on Christmas Day.
COPYRIGHT PROTECTED
