31 December, we drew a line as we always do,
looked ahead to 1 January, a blank page, a new start,
then the bad news kept seeping through
and here on day 6, we begin to lose heart.
For nothing much changes, we are victims of our times,
the seven deadly sins and more horrendous crimes,
the bitching of our leaders, the scaremongers all a-stir,
our Christmas hopes and dreams fading fast to a hazy blur.
Hatred still simmers, angry guns are still fired,
the old and lonely grow older, lonelier and tired.
Which agenda to reject, which agenda to support?
Was life really simpler when football was a sport?
The anxious with their angst hog the daily news,
celebs with instant expertise spout and spew their views.
Negatives swamp positives, or that's what we're made to think,
we're conditioned to await the nod when to fart and blink.
But we will fight, dammit, we will hope and pray,
that the impossible is still possible, no matter what they say,
that each day is a new start, that there is a better way,
that the impossible is still possible, no matter what they say.
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