...will never find it under a tree. (Roy L. Smith)
Twas the night before Christmas, and all through my head,
Where thoughts upon thoughts of things that have been said;
Images are racing along like cars on the road,
The darkest of secrets are an unbearable load;
It's supposed to be a time of happiness and joy,
Sadly it's not for this particular boy;
So upon my face will sit a fake smile and grin,
Pretending to enjoy the company that I'm in;
Counting down the minutes until the end of my blight,
While wishing a Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night.
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