'Santa Is Just An Old Wives Tale' Poem by Michael Micmac Mccrory

I’m not the simpleton you think I am
I’m not the buffoon you’d like me to be
You keep me in a blind corner, whilst whispering away
However much kept in the dark, I learned to see

My dislike of your secretive ways
Your treating me like a court jester
Made me a very bitter person
Who just sat and learned to fester

You could have told me the truth
I learnt it anyway, and took it without pause
Now it’s you who look like fools
I know now, there’s no Santa Claus

You always called me your little man
Which made me want to throw up
Look in the mirror, you’re aging parents
Despite your lies, I did grow up

Santa is an old wives tale
They say he could be St. Nicholas
He made parents lie to their kids
But he must really be old Nick, alas