by Lewis

Christmas morning winked; lazy

Five, nineteen the start of crazy

The first rumble of little feet

Eyes shut tight in hopeful retreat

The tell tale creak of a handle turning

A heart beat quickens, stomach churning

A slip of light, fierce and bright

A demons claw appears in sight

“I will not cry, I will not shout

I will not curse, I will not pout”

A resolution bravely made

An empty promise that won’t last the day

And now the door swings sharply wide

And with lucifers lungs there is a cry

“It’s too early” you yell, “not til six I said”

A futile attempt you realise with dread

And like that, all of a sudden

They’re everywhere, must be a dozen

Screeching, scrabbling, fighting fierce

Drowning in noises of a fledgling curse

Next it’s the opening of presents bought

A feasting on retail flesh, fresh caught

In their tearing grasping reach

Ignoring your futile desperate beseech

In silent fear you weep and sit

As yet another thoughtful gift

Turns to yet another shredded stack

Of ungrateful discarded plastic crap

The latest craze: Furniture of celebs

Stormzy’s footstool, with just two legs

Selena’s bedroom door, always open

Elton’s bathtub, always floating

What’s this? I hate it! I didn’t want that!

They cry, they curse, they spit and spat.

They Scamper for Santa’s merry discards

Shameless, blatant, blameless, disregard

“I see now, how today looks for me

It unrolls grim; a Dickensian prophecy.

Chained to the oven, covered in scum

Surrounded by ghosts of chores yet to come”

You stir from your thoughts, with a sudden blow

The pains just beginning that much you know

But it won’t last forever, soon will be free

Then realise with horror it’s still only 5:19

“That’s it!” You cry, as the rage builds

“Enough. You little bastards” and it fills

You up to overflowing. And pop...

“I raised you better, please just stop.”

You throw them to the floor as you rise.

And smile to yourself at their surprise

“You little ungrateful demon shits.

All I do, every year, all of this.”

“And what do i get? Some bubble bath.

A plastic bracelet. Don’t make me laugh.

Do you even care, just one jot?

Just some gratitude, it’s not a lot.”

You scoop all presents, up in the sheet

Silent shocked faces follow, meek

Down stairs outside and into the bin

Followed by petroleum, and a wild grin.

“Well now you’re done. Time to burn.”

Tear filled faces, silent and stern,

A match is dropped, a cloud of light

Melting hearts and home furnishings alike

At least that’s what you want to do

But you know that you couldn’t go through

instead you watch kids (and clock in between)

Flashing red forever 19, 19, 19...”