Sup on my dried out marrow, but they come
Each year just the same, to entice my anger
Because they know I won’t resist, as they pick
And pull at the last of my meat, scavenge my

Last bit of flesh, to satiate some desire they have
To topple all illusions I may have had, about mercy
And kindness, unconditional love, how long, I now
Wonder, will this madness go on. Thanks be to God,

I am thoroughly whipped, beaten by time, my memory
Slips, to long, long ago when this feast wasn’t obscene.
Here was laughter and love and the guilt wasn’t on me,
Not held responsible for all of their troubles and woes

Why they blame me only Heaven knows. Passing the plate,
Each gets their turn, to yell, scream and rage about something
I did or didn’t do, until finally they leave, only to return next
Year to ravage what little is left, of old bones and rotting flesh.