We ignore the pain and carry on,
wrapping all the gifts, except for

one.
They can't tell me it's ok
and expect me to cry on them,
I will be strong and carry on
and become who you want me to.
I knew you battles
and inner suffocations,
even though I took for granted,
your bull-headed love of our nation.
I'll carry on being strong,
wrapping all the gifts,

minus one.
I'll lay it by your grave while crying,
giving everyone my best,
but when I leave
and wipe my sleeve,
you'll find my heart in your eternal rest.
Christmas minus one is terrible at best.