I hate the cold, I hate the snow
I hate these lights that flash and glow,
I hate mince pies they taste to sweet.

I hate the fact i gain the weight as
There is to much to eat.
I hate to diet I like the way I am.
I hate  carollers that cant even sing,

I hate the thought of happiness and joy.
I hate the fact that 50,s films are played
On Tv is it me or do they just bore.
I hate that i have no chimney.
I hate the reindeer pooing on my welcome
Mat, doesn,t santa know how to clear up
His mess instead of me.

I hate the season but the cold one the
Most I hate that Christmas isnt in the
Summer when I tan and enjoy it the most.

I hate lots of things its clear to see,
But i do love my presents that santa leaves
Wrapped under my *Christmas tree.

there were endless baubled
      babbles in her head,
yet, she spoke nary a word,
scribbled 'pon careful avenues
    neath cautious sky cover,
her notions were
   silver lined intended
      amidst dandelion wishes,
but the waylaid winds
  always whisked them away
    as insignificant gray clouds
         unquestionably appeared
     beyond shadow's fair conditions,
   whilst torrents smeared
       a reigning scrawled disarray,
  deluging what was left of
          her frozen sunrise passages

My heart is a open book, unfortunately I don't think the universe knows how to read.