It is Christmas eve and all the little ones are sleeping in
bed with thoughts of all the things they will get
Consumerism at its best
Shoveled and pushed down their little necks
So frail and immature
I am afraid anymore and it might break
As they sleep on their ikea things
The corporation that snuck and tucked its way in
To a place where there are trees
To a place where there are mountains, rivers, and streams
To a place where you see your breath as you hike in remote
places
Alone with all of it and people who may have first come
Before there were ikea’s and industry
Before there were sidewalks and bread
It is in their heads with thoughts of sugar plums and
fairies
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