Next Year

as i walk along these streets
of this light coated city
with bells of the salvation
ringing in my head
there is nothing left to give
i do not feel the celebration this year
i do not feel the joy or peace
i want to stay where i belong this Christmas
with the homeless, the few, the strong
home is the hardest place to be
when all you want is a truly honest family
there is no warmth by the fire
there is no quaint mistletoe
we do not live in a painting or believe in Santa Claus
it hasn't snowed here yet
we just got our tree that took me a week to decorate
and my cards were all sent late
i feel the void, the bottomless emptiness
of what i've always wanted, of what i'll never have
a safe, secure and blessed home
but instead
i will climb aboard that train
to take me out of the city into the state
i will be bound to my old home
i'll drink the eggnog, i'll sing the carols
i will hold a candle
and pray for my true self, my true home next year