Christmas Dementia

Look at them, so greedy & unappreciative
Why should they get presents?
They didn’t die for anyone
not that I’ve ever heard.
Shouldn’t they show appreciation
for all that’s been done for them?

They could feed the homeless
mow old folks lawns.
Hell, they could visit old folks’ homes.
My family never visits, yet they hover
on the outskirts, like vultures
readying to pick off the carcass.
I hear them, their whispers
I see their greedy little fingers
dying to get into my bank account.
They already sold my house.
Don’t try to convince me otherwise
I know the score.
They scattered my stuff to the four winds
left me with nothing.
Greedy bastards.
What did I ever do to them?

I’ll eat my Christmas dinner alone.
I’m used to it, don’t you worry about me.
I wheel past all the smiling faces
the families visiting their old ones.
Look at the paper and ribbon, thrown helter-skelter
Listen to them singing. They don’t even see me.

Someone is in the corner, clapping her hands
Oh, there’s a whole group, waving
“Grandpa, Grandpa,” a little one cries out
I can’t see who they’re pointing at.
Someone grabs my chair, they’re
wheeling me among this giggly gaggle of strangers
They’re hugging me, shoving presents at me
inviting me to their feast.
I wipe my face, I don’t want them to see the tears.
Do they know my family didn’t come?

Wheeling back to my room I watch the lights flicker.
I see the kids, pawing at the gifts.
Look at them, so greedy & unappreciative.
No one visits me. I don’t get it.
I did so much for them, I gave them my all
and they just threw me away.
Can anyone explain what I did
so that no one ever visits me
not even on Christmas day?

Posted for Wonder Wednesday @ Poets United</a>