Hate to be a little emo.

I’m normally a shining star

During these holiday seasons.

Building and crafting

Like Ol’ saint nick with a

Hardy har har har.

Though, I’ve worked myself

To death, you see?

My body is weak,

My mind is somewhere off sea.

A sickness overcame my senses,

And blew me out of proportion.

I’ve got no new ideas

For this year’s generation.

I hope my apologies have

Not been too late.

Perhaps I’ll serve a cup of tea

And take myself off the stake.

Two deadlines I have missed,

And two stories you are owed.

I’ll stop procrastinating,

And throw in a third untold.

So take a seat,

Prop up your feet,

And prepare to feel defeat.