What It Really Is
Houses filled with gleaming decors,
Lights are twinkling as the carols we're singing,
There are people dancing while others are cheering,
Everyone's at joy,celebrating the birth of the king,
I've heard a loud crash,
loud enough to make my heart pound,
But not enough to make to the celebration stop,
Not enough for the loud crash to be given a while,
The joy continues for they say,"It was the birth of the king"
The sound goes louder as my heart keeps pounding,
Lights are still twinkling with the carols singing,
I hope the celebration was still for the king,
I step out of the crowd trying to find some peace,
And I was shocked,It wasn't the peace that I found,
What I found we're people trying to save their houses,
Throwing pales of water while their tears are running,
I witness the fire but can do nothing but to cry,
I feel the heat who burned-out number of houses,
I even hear the young girls' cry,
With my heart broken I try to give it a while and listen as she cry,
As I was listening I noticed she's not crying,
She's singing!
The little girl is singing,
"Saylenay,olenay,oliskay,olisbray"
The little girl whose house we're burnt by fire,
truly knows for whom the celebration was,
The little girl singing,"Silent Night,Holy Night,All is bright"
and not those who join the crowd truly knows what Christmas really is.
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