Doubting Christmas

When I turned six,
I realised,
My hero,
Santa,
Wasn't to be.

He was just me mum,
And a false Christmas Tree,
When I found out,
I cried and cried,
I ripped his picture of my wall,

When I'd finished doing so,
I lay on my bed and sobbed,
Oh! Santa,
Why couldn't you be real?
It's just your perfect,
My bestest friend,

Oh! Santa,
Please come to life,
Bring me pressies,
And I'll play you the pipe,

The very next day,
Well, night,
Who should I see,
Standing on my bed,
Shouting, "Keiron! It's Me!"
I ran up to his side,
But when I got there he'd gone,
I mumbled; "hisssmassss!"
Santa made me Doubt Christmas!