This isn't really in the festive spirit, so you may want to steer clear if that's what you're looking for. Holidays give me anxiety, particularly Christmas, so this became more of an effort to maintain my sanity than spread any yuletide cheer. I say that only for clarity's sake, not spite; I truly hope you all have a wonderful holiday, whichever you may celebrate.

Also, this poem ended up a little... heavier than I desired it to be at its inception. I wanted to waive my arms in frustration at a feeling I've been having lately, of feeling desperately and hopelessly out of control of my own fate. It seems like, especially whenever I start figuring things out, my fingers' slip for a mere moment... and suddenly I'm back where I started. I know that's life, I know things rarely go as we planned, but dammit, it'd be nice if life felt like cooperating for once.

I'll leave explanations at that. I don't much enjoy spelling out my every motivation behind my writing, but the more I read this piece, the more compelled I felt to write that little blurb on it. Poetry is weird, or least the way I produce it is... even I don't understand how it comes into form sometimes. Like planting an apple seed and something brand new germinates. I've learned to nourish whatever comes out of the ground, rather than trying to mold it to my ego's whim.

Anyway, that's enough ranting from me. 'Til the next one. Happy Holidays!