Golden Santa

"counting the volumes i've stored here
Hidden in the back of our office.
I'm writing in them,
Hoping one day our children will find them.
Will they understand why we did this to them?
But everyone chooses sides,
And life's a bitch.

Now i'm forging frequencies
And cutting puzzle pieces.
You had every part of me i could give.
The rest was empty space.
Our family deceases,
Forward motion repeating.
The asinine reasons
My good will is allergic."