Every day is a brand-new day
Every day I am getting further away from yesterday
I am getting further away from the people
whom I had my last conversation with
from things I fond of
from time I had wasted.

Every day is a brand-new day
I left my prints that rather then become
a part of someone’s memories
I loved enough and I gave love enough
Things and people shall pass, so do time
I lived in the past with different songs were tuned to
then I live in the present moment
with brand new jams to listen to.

Every day is a brand-new day.
Yesterday’s just a part of someone’s memories.
To be remembered and at the same time forgotten.

I am no millionaire
Nor the type to care
Like everyone else
I brush my teeth and comb my hair
While staring at my figure in the mirror
I claim myself a winner.

I am no millionaire
But I wish I am
I act like one and think like one
One with a millionaire’s thoughts and ways of thinking
One with a millionaire’s best attitude

Should the former come along with the latter
Then you make yourself a millionaire
What is the point of becoming a millionaire in wealth
When you are just poor at self-conduct and mindset

Manner maketh man
That is what I tell myself everyday
That is how I become who I am today
Cause I am no millionaire nor the type to care
Because I am a winner with a millionaire demeanour.

I need to remember me.

I need to remember myself
and all the good sweet memories that help me pick myself up
and all the bitter-sweat experiences that help me build myself
that help me find myself when often time I am lost.

I need to remember me
and remember to live.

Of a round-shaped chocolate cake,
Of unlit candles of which the numbers has increased by one since the last time
Of empty chairs
Of balloons hanging on the wall
Of colorful hats neatly arranged on the table cloth
Of empty porcelain saucers

Like many years before
The boy sits there in silence
On an old wooden chair adjacent to the round table
No surprise nor gift
Nor people nor appetite

Like many years before
He acts like the cool Han Solo
Minus his 200 years old Chewbacca
‘Cause he only has his little antic toy car

No matter how luxurious it may seem
The cake, candles, confetti, balloons and all
The missing essence of people
And happiness and serenity
Could not make it up for him

He is a birthday boy who is not cherished or cheered on
He is a birthday boy with no joy
Like many years before
He finger crosses for the next year to be better

Then I realized
there is so much love within me
that when I pour some to others
I still have plenty left.

It never runs out nor it will dry.

Then I realized
often times
I love others while hoping
I’d get some in return
although I hardly get any.

Then I realized
I have so much love in me
that I see others in the light of love
then I realized
that I have been seeing my reflection in
the form of them – whom I give my love to.