The cattails sway in the wind.
A soft snow blankets the rough, rugged terrain.
Children run around with rosy cheeks building snowmen, and having snowball fights.
A few sit and try to catch flakes on their tongue.
Off in the distance carolers sing in unison, "O Silent Night."
Stockings hang from the mantel, Christmas decorations light up the night.
As parents call in their children, i walk slowly in the street leaving footprints in the fresh powder.
Walking alone, walking to anywhere.
Using the Christmas lights to guide my way out of here.
Trying to leave all of this behind me.
Wrapped up in the sound of the wind as it whistles between houses.
Sirens scream off in the distance.
A bloody knife sits off the front steps of a quiet, little house.
Once warm with love, shattered with hate.
Red and blue lights flicker as the house is surrounded.
Blood runs down the steps, staining the snow crimson.
Shouts of horror come from the disaster zone.
Tears well up in the eyes of the relatives.
Eyes of the deceased still open... looking for someone, something to help him.
I walk away never looking back as red drips from my hands, leaving a perfect trail.
An imperfect decision, one i do not regret.
So much for a white Christmas.
