Array ( [sid] => 185681 [catid] => 1 [aid] => mick [title] => I Won/'/t Be Home For Christmas [time] => 2018-12-17 17:39:01 [hometext] => A fictional poem. [bodytext] => I won/'/t be home for Christmas even though I tried.
I won/'/t be home because my parole was denied.
My wife said she/'/d leave if I didn/'/t buy her a $20,000 ring.
I robbed a bank to get the money and my butt was in a sling.
This may be hard for you to believe.
I robbed that bank on Christmas Eve.
A policeman put a bullet in my butt when he fired a shot.
I couldn/'/t sit down for weeks and 20 years was what I got.
True to her word, my wife did leave.
She abandoned her family on Christmas Eve.
My twenty year old son is a pervert, he wears panties and bras.
And even though he/'/s twenty, he still believes in Santa Claus.
He/'/s been taking care of his younger siblings ever since I was put away.
But he/'/s an alcoholic who will sell his siblings in order to get drunk on Christmas Day.
Before my wife packed her bags and left for good, she threw a hissy fit.
Now I realize that when it came to committing that crime, she wasn/'/t worth it. [comments] => 1 [counter] => 44 [topic] => 7 [informant] => randyjohnson [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 0 [ratings] => 0 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => HumorPoetry ) Your Poetry Dot Com - I Won't Be Home For Christmas


I Won't Be Home For Christmas
Date: Monday, 17th December 2018 @ 05:39:01 PM AEST
Topic: Sad Poetry

Contributed By: randyjohnson
I won/'/t be home for Christmas even though I tried.
I won/'/t be home because my parole was denied.
My wife said she/'/d leave if I didn/'/t buy her a $20,000 ring.
I robbed a bank to get the money and my butt was in a sling.
This may be hard for you to believe.
I robbed that bank on Christmas Eve.
A policeman put a bullet in my butt when he fired a shot.
I couldn/'/t sit down for weeks and 20 years was what I got.
True to her word, my wife did leave.
She abandoned her family on Christmas Eve.
My twenty year old son is a pervert, he wears panties and bras.
And even though he/'/s twenty, he still believes in Santa Claus.
He/'/s been taking care of his younger siblings ever since I was put away.
But he/'/s an alcoholic who will sell his siblings in order to get drunk on Christmas Day.
Before my wife packed her bags and left for good, she threw a hissy fit.
Now I realize that when it came to committing that crime, she wasn/'/t worth it.

This poem is Copyright © randyjohnson


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