Christmas Hell
The bells toll through December’s deadened air—
where’s the light? swallowed in some bottomless pit.
Phantoms dressed in holiday rags
drift through carols nobody sings anymore,
slinking through corners where joy used to live.
Christmas Hell. No salvation anywhere.
Just the crush of bleakness pressing down
while hearts come undone in the dark.
Black trees stand with nothing on their branches,
no star, no hope—just charcoal silhouettes
against a sky that forgot how to glitter.
The dead wail hymns no one chooses to hear.
Every burst of seasonal cheer
curdles into something that cuts.
Every laugh tastes like ash on the tongue.
Frost-covered grief etches itself
across every face too tired to pretend.
In corners where no light dares venture,
the real Christmas waits—twisted, ruined,
nothing left but the curse.