Merry Christmas
25, the number man created
And bestowed upon the young lord
As his day of birth
An advent into chaos he made
His birth, a day of pain
For all who knew the truth
Yet, ignorant man rejoiced
That the babe was born into strife
To rebuild the debris of our desolation
With shouts of merry Christmas
Shall we sing in joy for our hope?
Or shall we mourn the babe's future past?
Or perhaps we shall do both.
Did I spoil your day? Merry Christmas.
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