Crying over brithday cake,

sitting to my front.

One flickering candle.

Icing full of rot.

Number 14,

seven times two two times seven,

Two lonely numbers,

Does that mean I am alone?

Tears stream down my face,

Rivers a salty flow.

While the candle flame

shifts too and fro.

No party for me.

Lonely and boring:

describes me too a tee.

Friendless and lifeless as can be.

Just lunch,

some presents,

Maybe a song,

But I knew all along.

I planned it this way,

So why should I be sad?

Family is better than a party.

So I guess I should be glad.

Turning 14,

much older than before!

Seems so small,

which hurts all the more.

13 is gone,

a new year is born,

This year will be better,

I have sworn.

Crying over birthday cake,

This year we will see,

Will it be better?

Happy birthday to me.

…

🫀