A Tale Of Two Christmasses Poem by Dan Brown

I’m excited; he doesn’t care.
I’m involved; and he’s not there.
I’m baking with Mum; he’s slouched in bed.
I’m dancing care-free; he’s laid like lead.
I’m in my pyjamas; he’s dressing smart.
I’m waiting for Santa; him for his tart.

I’m kissing Mum; he’s out the door.
I’m asleep; he’s on the dance-floor.
I’m snoring subtly; he’s rolling drunk.
I’m sailing softly; whilst he is sunk.
I’m warm in bed; whilst he is sweating bad.
I’m content; this is the worst night he’s had.

I’m alone; he’s centre of hugs
I’m on the toilet; he’s on drugs.
I’m waking up; he’s busy with sluts.
I’m racing downstairs; he’s retching his guts.
I’m opening gifts; he’s home out the gloom.
I’m rushing to him; he’s off to his room.

I’m celebrating Christmas, the only way I know.
He’s slowly killing it, by snorting all the snow.