A little dark seasonal diversion here which comes with it's very own poem, and it goes like ...... I won’t be home for Christmas, that is clear to see The memories of the festive past can no longer be Painful times changed the mood as the years moved swiftly on The Times we shared so lovingly have well and truly gone From young to old, from hot to cold, I sit alone and cry A family time that should be sublime , I think and wonder why The pain remains year after year, the pain I cannot share Like holding a knife to the wrist of life and thinking... should I dare? Christmas passes and new year arrives I hear people say they had the time of their lives Many do and yet we know In some peoples lives there is no love and snow Back to normal for another year, It’s gone and just be glad The season to be merry with granny on the sherry, all just a commercial fad Remain detached and understand how good and bad moves from hand to hand Life is seldom snow and love, there is seldom a hand from god above If sleeping rough, the street is you No soup or blanket provides hope anew Someone cared when Christmas arrived But this is new year, now they want you to hide The conscience is fickle, a seasonal trend It affords those with so much to feel they don’t offend Taking more than deserved, appearing polite yet unconcerned If this was hell they would truly have burned in their decadent greed and comfort. I Won’t Be Home For Christmas (2012). by Mark David Rogers. (from the e-book " Dark Festivities") Mega Zoom Version