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Here come the Dark Days for me. I know they are there. The under lying depression; the monetary stress and the forced joy.

I’ve got stressors, you’ve got stressors, all God’s children got STRESSORS.

So I wrote a poem about it.

‘Tis Holiday Seasonal Disorder Time

The sun sets sooner

The feelings dredge deeper

The scars resurface and the pain twinges in my head

These are the months of forced happiness and joy

Of family and money and abundance

For those who have it

Serving only as a reminder

a staple in my foreskin

That I have none of these.

Happiness, family or joy

My echoing dwelling

reminds me I am alone

each sound resonates its hallow presence.

Time for forced smiles or selfies

Gifts wrapped in debt and

Tables overflowing with meals slaved over in hot kitchens

For stressful family gatherings of suppressed anger.

Snow falls and we smile

Childhood memories of snowmen glint in our eyes.

While shovels full of the stuff

Pull our back muscles to spasms of pain.

Gee, this poems a downer

Where is the Joy of the Season?

Where is baby Jesus?

Where is my Xanax?

The Dark Days approach

And the sun sets sooner

And the food is abundant

And gluttony is king.