In a town where the tinsel's agleam,
Lived Larry, who harboured a cynical dream,
Of a Christmas untainted, sincere and true,
Not masked by the madness that the world would pursue.
The lively streets, a shopping spree's grand plea,
Insane frenzy for things, frivolous with glee,
Gift-wrapped illusions promising delight,
Yet Larry saw through the consumerist blight.
The carols chimed, a deceptive melody,
For beneath the cheer, hid a bitter parody,
A world draped in faux kindness and grace,
A facade that crumbled in the year's daily race.
Pre-Christmas stress, a ubiquitous theme,
The hustle and bustle, a discordant stream,
People rushed, faces etched with dismay,
Yet wore festive masks, come the holiday.
Hypocrisy flourished like holly on a wreath,
For love and peace were but a fleeting sheath,
Larry despised the charade, the pretend,
The façade that masked the wrath they extend.
"Peace on Earth," they sang, in sweet harmony,
But Larry knew it was mere levity.
For the world spun on, mean and unkind,
Not just during Christmas, but every day, we find.
The yuletide spirit, a beacon misplaced,
Lost in the chaos, greed interlaced,
A season of giving turned into a stance,
To buy and possess, to conquer and advance.
Larry yearned for the roots, the essence untold,
The true Christmas story, long lost, grown cold,
A wish that one day the world might recall,
The genuine meaning that once stood tall.