Merry Christmas

May all your Moments,
Filled with Joy,
Echo of Me,
Your Lost Boy.

If you Toy around,
and Forget Me too,
Maybe, Perhaps,
You'd truly be in Rue.

Everyday,
You Lament,
On May.

May was the Day,
In which, for the First,
You decided to Pray.

Given a Half a Year,
and Lent an Extra Month,
Mama Died on December One.

It was a Ruined Year,
Filled with Sneers,
And Sad Tears.

So in Lamenting,
If you Will,
Daddie Please,
Just Let Go.