A Revolutionary Christmas

It was a week before Christmas He knew many kids were about to receive presents Didn’t care too much for Sing-Alongs Rather obsessed about Mr. Benjamin, And his flock of Dead Presidents, Living among the outcasts Most couldn’t grasp how his daily went, He was only 15 years old, Already prepping for content of execution ‘Cause he resented his present sleeping tent With no loving parents Just a distant memory and a vague scent, Through the cold days and nights He planned every scenario possibly to circumvent, He was scared for his life but had to be strong Couldn’t relent under pressure He hated to see these happy spoiled brats with their gold ‘Cause he too wanted his own treasure, Like the pirate that he was He sought out other aggressors They planned to stand tall at a mall To see if there would be any holiday gestures With caps in their hand bracing the cold weather, The patrons came and went Putting a dagger through their endeavor, Not wanting to pester, Or be anyone’s jester He understood that he had to one up and better their adventure, He was hungry for respect His appetite was growling to take more of a drastic measure, Being on the lower end of the spectrum He’s all too familiar with people Living arrogantly with an abundance of pleasures, They couldn’t give a damn about the less fortunate However, His purpose now was clear, and it was all coming together The texture of the lever was smooth and its design was very clever His initial plan was written in Braille Where only the blind can transcribe the contents of his unfinished letter.