'Twas the morning of Christmas, and all through our home,

All the cats were stirring, not leaving me alone.

I had just awoken, after a long awful migraine,

Hoping today, nobody would think to act insane.

Both my kids and my hubby, were all still asleep,

The only other person awake was the great Christmas beast.

Although she has seemed to outgrow all that malicious behavior,

Dementia, albeit slow-going, seemed to work in our favor.

Now she's as docile as a small little mouse,

Except asking me for something every time she sees me in the house.

But I will take annoying, over cruel, any single day,

But this still doesn't erase the past any single way.

So while I have to deal with my feelings about her deeds from the days of yore,

I don't have to deal with the day-to-day abuse from her anymore.

If I could, I would, I'd wish upon a star,

I would have been given normal parents I didn't have to love from afar.

I wouldn't have to question what made them so broken,

And I'd never have to guess the lies from all the words that they've spoken.

But most of all, I wouldn't have to clean up the messes they've made,

In both my life, and theirs, in uncountable ways. 

But stars are just lights, balls made of particles and gas,

They can't grant wishes any more than can my ass. 

So this Christmas day, a high of forty degrees,

I will clasp my hands together and get on my knees,

And clean this nasty floor, because it's dirty as fuck,

To all a Merry Christmas, and to everyone with narcissistic parents, good luck...  

©2025 Shay Brooks