The wrappings are ripped.
The papers are in the trash.
The lights are off.
The fireplace is ash.

The toys are discarded.
The family dispersed.
The leftovers are cold.
Everyone is hearse.

'Twas the day after Christmas, when all through the house
No one was together, not even a mouse;

The stocking were on the floor discarded without care,
In hopes that someone would soon come there;

The children nad their phones were all snug in bed,
While visions of nonsense danced in their heads;

No one is here.
No one cares.
No one feels the cheer
In the air
This year