A Child Named Christmas

A child born on Christmas Eve
His mother died the minute he lived

His father brought him up until one faithful day
Just a few minutes before his 13th birthday

He was shot in the chest by a policeman for stealing
Christmas waited for him the whole night without sleeping

So after that night, he fended for himself
At a young age, he learned to fight, to live

And on every Christmas Eve, he would look at shoppers
Busy buying gifts, rushing on the way home, happy and eager

He would often wonder, why are they so joyful at a time like this?