The Family Fruitcake - Poetic Rages Through the Ages

The family fruitcake circles still;
It operates its own freewill.
With fruit and nuts and stone-cold dough,
The fruitcake bounces to and fro.

This sweet confection weighs a ton
From many years of yuletide fun.
It bounces through the family tree,
As kinfolk raise a toast in glee.

Although this treat may make us sick,
Or simply cut us to the quick,
We may not mention this at all,
For untold issues may feel small.

When revelry has reached its end,
The fruitcake may its life extend.
We hide it underneath the rug,
With all our secrets, safe and snug.

Outsiders may suspect it's there,
But no one knows for sure just where.
We keep it hidden, under wraps,
Until it may emerge, perhaps.

The recipe, we pass along,
This legacy of soggy song.
For drenched in bourbon, holidays
Are soon forgotten anyways.

Each generation has its own
For no fruitcake may stand alone.
So, handed down from old to young,
The fruitcake legacy is clung.

Why can't we throw this thing away?
'Tis difficult to do or say.
It holds a power still untold
Awaiting those who would be bold.

Clandestine memories are hard,
Just like the fruitcake, we are marred.
Until we call it by its name,
We'll simply gather, passing blame.