The Gift of LIfe

There's a scent of pine,
It reminds me of when I was young,
When I took in that gasp of life.
 
The thick sap,
Between my fingers,
Now maroon from the diffracted light.
 
God pumps within my veins,
In sync the budum budum,
And I've read all the recipes to form your innocent life.
 
Christmas is the best time of year,
Beneath my heaven's night,
Yet I sit with this pain that will never fade.
 
For I can't accept,
And I won't accept,
That I was not given the gift of life.