Christmas (Tragedy) Only Comes Once A Year Poem by Christopher's Dead

Left my house at a quarter to three,
Snow on the ground, left my engine running,
Warm hands, cold hearted me,
Wrenched it out, left my soul on the dashboard.
Look rearview mirror, what do I see,
Blood and tear stained face staring back,
Shouldn’t have left my house, in this state,
I just wanted to mail these Christmas card today.

I see what I’m doing to myself and I know
I try everyday to make myself miserable,
And I heard the squeal of the brakes as I slammed down on them,
I guess that I should’ve never gone out in the first place…

The first place I return to.
The first place, when nothing is alright.

Looking out across the barren streets,
Icy blackened roads, trees falling,
The whole sky is cold and gray,
An antipodal seethe of my home.
Windows chilled, fog’s not clearing,
Yet I feel myself moving faster,
Saw a sign with a crow perched atop,
And that crow was calling my name besides.

I see what I’m doing to myself and I know
I try everyday to cut up my own life,
And I heard the sirens squealing as the cold sky darkened,
I guess that I should’ve never gone out in the first place…

The first place I found burning.
The first place, no nothing was alright.

Jumping bridges and cutting corners,
All the sudden, didn’t know what I was doing,
Drifting away from all that was safe,
My own self and security meant nothing to me.
If I’d looked at the cards and saw who I cared for,
You’d see me tomorrow on Christmas morning,
Now just an empty space left under the tree,
Please know that I cared about all you were trying to say.

I see what I did to myself and I know
I can’t put flesh and blood back together,
And I heard a slow precipitating noise from within me,
I guess that I should’ve never gone out in the first place.

The first place I’d hold on to.
The first place that is my heart.