It’s

stifling

in here where

I’ve been forced to

spend the remainder of

the year. Sometimes, if  I’ve

 been good you’ll let me stay out

past my bedtime, which unfortunately

comes right after you’ve stripped me of the

fruits I bear as gifts to you from those you love.

As a result, I’ve never seen the flowers bloom or the

leaves fall, betrayed by the real trees they come from.

Sometimes I wish I could watch the one I was modeled after

so maybe he can tell me how to better suit your needs. I’m trying

my best to look well-dressed year after year, but I’m getting too old for

this job. Seasonal as it may be. Year after year I only give you fuel to replace

me with one much younger, fuller, greener, and sexier. After so much sweat and

tears why get rid of me? Throw me out on the street like a tired whore. I need you,

but I am too old for this shit and I can’t even dress myself. My needles are dull so I guess

you’ve grown

tired as well.