Christmas Fall Poem by Phil Soar

Christmas Fall



I woke up Christmas morning, all the presents neath the tree
I tripped and broke my nose, and then blood did flow from me
I cursed the bloody presents, they'd left out for the dog
He'd opened every one of them, and left a yuletide log
I trod in it, which made me fall, and land upon my face
I F***ing hate these Christmas gifts, strewn around the place

Friday, December 5, 2014
Topic(s) of this poem: funny
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