Stocking Stuffer

Naughty or nice, who are we to say which?

Coal or cash, who are we to pick?

Under the family tree lies the roots of our present, wrapped up in GIF’ed memories.

Running out of stock of what stuffs us, we sock anyone who doesn’t give enough and snuff out our huffs and puffs with smoke and mirrors.

Blow off steam from being rear-ended by comprehending our eyes don’t always have the taste for the sweetest candy.

Canes become the crutch we use to feel dandy, more than adorned ornaments or won tournaments.

Mourn the merry who scream bloody murder and use their flood to float further.

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