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Thursday, December 25

Christmas can be either a happy or depressing time. It's what you make it.
If you had a nice day, you may not want to read this.

Is this what we've become?

Oh yeah, Happy Holidays!

When He Died

Lights are flashing, people are dashing,
so cold out it would kill a snowman,
Cash register's ringing, Caroler's singing,
and a man digs through a trash can.

Everyone's shopping, nobody's stopping,
as he holds out the paper cup he's found,
With holiday cheer, filling the air,
he begs as he sits on cold ground.

Music is playing, everyone's saying,
Merry Christmas and oh yes Happy New Year,
Yet all step around, the man on the ground,
pretending there's no one to see there.

Hungry and cold, broken and old,
With a beard and all dirty they think he's strange,
They're filled with detest, by his simple request,
"If you please, do you have some spare change?"

No one would dare, to venture near,
the old man with change to be given,
All stepped aside, as he walked with no pride,
to the alley and the box that he lived in.

On the way there, he happened hear,
these words from the mouth of a child,
Look! It's Santa Claus!, which made him pause,
then he turned and he winked and he smiled.

His eyes twinkled bright, on that cold winter's night,
when he climbed in his box from the storm,
Then he laid down his head, on his newspaper bed,
with the words from that child he felt warm.

And the very next day, when they brushed all away,
the snow from the box where he'd "reside",
They all thought it strange, with his cup full of change,
of a smile on his face when he died.

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