How can I know a feeling more obscure
Than that thy glowing image now recalls?
A joy like laughing kids, so freaking pure
It spilleth o’er and down my cheek it falls.
The raddest toy for Christmas bought in June
Would cause that kid’s emotions to go nuts
Reveal’d by hapless parents way too soon
And then in cruellest closets tightly shut.
What pleasure can I get from saddest truth!
And like, my greatest pain from greatest joy.
The masochism of a patient youth
I must preserve to keep my wit’s employ.
And if that Christmas never comes to pass
I’ll find that glowing in another lass.