In the glow of Christmas lights, we yearn

to match the magic others seem to churn.

In windows gleaming with perfection's touch

yet behind closed doors, reality does clutch.

Each bulb a star in a constellation bright

we strive to replicate the dazzling sight.

But in the tangles and imperfect hues

lies the truth we often choose to refuse.

For every strand perfectly placed

there's a hidden struggle not easily traced.

In tangled wires and broken dreams,

we find a reflection of the mayhem in our mind.

We long to shine as brilliantly as they

whose lights seem to effortlessly convey.

The spirit of the season, joy unbound

yet our own efforts often feel unsound.

For while we chase an imperfect facade,

the truth is that imperfection is not odd.

So let us embrace the flaws that we bear

for they make us human, vulnerable and rare.

In the christmas lights, which both bright and dim

we find the beauty in each imperfect whim.

For it's not the perfection that truly ignites

but the true, imperfect glow of Christmas lights.