Once every 365 days someone will care,
send you written sentences.
Or at least do the minimun bare
and remember your existence.
Once every year I become more mature,
more tolerable and laidback.
If only stitching the emotional sutures
would become anything but a setback.
Once a year I take those wishes with me,
never for granted.
If you are still here alongside me,
know you are always invited.
Post-birthday memo, my head weights like a boulder,
the fear is creeping here always.
I'm becoming lonelier, I'm becoming older.
That is how I feel, I am not OK.
