Happy Christmas.
The Thorne’s House Christmas Morning 05.
Ashes dropped form the lanterns candle, floating onto a mantle of snow
The doors handle crisp and gleaming, beaming from the canvas below
The Garden aglow vegetation stands with little decoration due to the weather
He who is clever a robin stands,
with his chest pressed against the window without a flake on his feathers
Creatures huddle together, from the interior a superior sound is heard
Joy and laughter, after the alarm signals that Christmas can now occur
The cat purrs, as the fire place is excited and brightened with life
The family is united beneath the tree, a marquee of decoration and light
A wonderful sight, colorful and chronic a fiber optic hypnotic feeling
Children kneeling on a warn surface, purpose of presents stacked to the ceiling
A home so appealing, no pain, reframed from what ugly beholds
A problem is only a problem if it in itself remains unsolved
And as the day unfolds, the mold of happiness doesn’t uncover
The family dines in good health and wealth, but do they think about others?
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The step of a Shop Christmas Morning 05.
The wind blows intense, no defense as the snow proceeds to fall
The shadows form a sense of suspense as the man awakes at his door
He rises from the floor, unsure of the day as his stiff body moves
A section of his arm bruised, in connection with last nights injection wounds
He begins to struggle, all his muscles can no longer trigger
He lingers towards a fag end, but apprehends as he can’t feel his fingers
His dog has withdrawn from his life and gone to his dismay
As like his owners mind when free the animal will go astray
Unaware of the day, he cocoons his body in his rug to make a seal
The only present he’ll receive is a cigarette or a hit if he begs or steals
His livings unreal, he rests his head on last nights sick
Awaiting to be awaken not by an alarm but a kick.