Bending under the Yule tree
What I resent the most is the happiness
I could never fetch and grasp
How can the universe constitute felicity
All left in me is a sense of weariness
The disorderliness, the anxiousness, the nefariousness
The fatuousness, the tiredness, the unwellness
At Christmastime, when the citizenry unites
To fete the spirit of the holiday, it feels hopeless.
hboerz
Dec. 26, 2021