Every year, around this time

A certain feeling swells of mine

Like a rugby ball stuck in the gut

A Christmas shell explodes and cuts

 

December 1st, plan a list

Of all the things you hate entwined

Gifts, toys, you know the score

Dec 12th, what a bore

 

Surely music can help bring the feeling

But a random playlist leaves me reeling

Old crooners return to haunt

While old Scrooges intrude and scorne

 

The relatives bang at the door

Seemingly for days or more

Waiting to be let in

When the hoard is enough, it's time to begin

 

An impending clock ticks inscrutably

A forboding tone swings knowingly

As the day arrives regardless

Of a christmas feeling, so heartless