Clothes or Coal

One thing I always despised was

when I woke up and saw under that tree

those damn boxes on Christmas day. Tell me

where on my Christmas List did I write that

I wanted a pair of jeans, socks, and shirts?

 

I wanted the gun to go with Duck hunt.

Instead, I got a blue and white sweatshirt that

my mom got. What am I supposed

to do with this? And am I the only one that

was embarrassed whenever I’d find a pair

of underwear that I would never wear

in a lifetime. I could hang myself with

all the tight whites.

 

I wanted my video games.

I wanted my board games, my action figures and marbles.

Instead I got stuff that I would only

stuff into a closet and never see again.

 

I’d rather just have a lump of coal.

That way, I could throw it at something

and have some sort of fun, or maybe even

retribution. I could throw it at someone, like a

a bully who thinks he’s better than me and

believes he can pick on me when he can.

 

Maybe a teacher who gave me a bad grade

or maybe a neighbor who gave me a hard

time. That’s better than any pair of shirts.

I hated getting clothes on Christmas day.

Now that I’m older and don’t have time

for my games. I just need clothes.

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