I’m a relatively dark sort. For example. see what sprung to mind as I looked upon our Christmas tree –
They came into my home, took a saw to my feet and dragged me from my loved ones.
I was stripped, degraded, fashioned into a shape they deemed “fit”, then sold on, no questions asked.
These new people, they stood me in a bucket – I’m still bleeding by this time. They don’t seem to care. They dress me in lights and garish trinkets, then stand around congratulating themselves, gawping at me.
I’m relegated to the corner of the room. The young ones pull at me. The animals sniff and bite at me. I’m thirsty; they forget to give me water.
I’ve nothing to look forward to other than a slow death and an unceremonious burial. “Merry Christmas,” they say to one another. I ask myself, “what is so bloody merry about it for us firs?”