A Pagan Christmas?

Don't really have a title for this one yet.

Disclaimer: This one is a little morbid (not meant for little kids), but at the time I thought it was silly/stupidish :-) LOL I was just kinda writing it because of how the world now seems to have missed the point of Christmas, and how so many teach children not only a falsehood, but how to cast off there faith as they grow into adults. God says we should have faith like a child and yet by teaching them false faith we're setting up their future selves to quickly disbelieve in truth leading them to assume it too is just childish fairytales. Such things like Santa, the Easter bunny, tooth fairy etc. which may seem harmless but may ultimatly harm their faith in God. So this is kind of a satire loosely based on "the night before Christmas." inspired by my frustration in giving children false faith. Hope it doesn't offend or cause trauma. 

In the winter as the cold winds blow,

Atop my roof on ice and snow,

No sound is heard, no hooves, no bells,

For Santa is dead, our town crier yells,

At half past eleven this Christmas eve night,

The town gasps and weeps at that terrible sight,

A once jolly fat man with red cheeks, suit, and hat,

Freshly gored by a reindeer is lying down flat,

The sirened cars come, the policemen get out,

They question if anyone’s seen Rudolf about,

A little plump boy with a tear in his eye,

States that he saw that villain, just this moment fly by,

The police call a hunter renowned for his aim,

Quite ironically Chris Kringle the third was his name,

He got out his rifle with a scope he called Mark,

They looked to the sky but the sky was too dark,

That same chubby boy, snot running down on his clothes,

Cried out "That monster can't hide, cause he’s got a red nose!"

They looked for that red glow, surveying the night,

Yet no one could see Rudolf’s red nose’s bright light,

Just then "Not my Johnny!" a mother was crying,

Rudolf’s struck again, a fresh body was lying,

This time it was Johnny that same pumpkin shaped boy,

With this message in blood "Snitches die with no toy!"

The message was, without a doubt scribed,

By the tip of an antler, as the little boy died,

"That's gone too far!" roared Chris Kringle in thund’rous tones,

"By dawn Rudolf's pelt will be mine, I shall grind up his bones!"

Chris then picked up his gun and was gone on his mission,

The town mourned dear Johnny and sent for the mortician,

As for the two bodies, the town did agree,

They were boxed up like presents, buried under a tree,

Then at about dawn, there arose such a racket,

Chris Kringle returned in a new reindeer jacket,

You could hear Him cry out, with a deep, "HOHOHO!"

As Rudolf’s ground bones, fell to earth like fresh snow,

That Christmas held sorrows yet joy was still found,

For we had a great feast and roast reindeer abound.

A lesson was learned by the children that day,

That the one who’s a snitch, will most certainly pay.