• This year would be different.
    That's what I told myself.
    Now I wish I were indifferent.
    The only difference is status itself.

    This year I'm not actually alone,
    But it still seems as such
    Because I still rely on my phone
    To connect with what I can't really touch.

    Bad luck reared it's ugly maw again
    Interrupting the perfection that should have been.
    Ruining this holiday for another year.
    Draining it of all potential cheer.

    What have I done to deserve such fate?
    Each year I fall into bed even more irate
    With the misfortune that multiplies every season.
    I wish I could see a sign or a reason

    As to why I've been dealt such a hand.
    Why such simple plans couldn't bear to stand.
    I'm alone again wallowing in my sorrow
    And dreading what pain will come of tomorrow.

    Surely things will look up eventually,
    But each day sucks more substantially.
    I wish I could give up on my ambition
    And learn to ignore this wretched tradition.