Stop giving me 'happy birthday' cards
I'm barely happy it's my birthday
You'd disagree, but you won't listen how it's hard
To have a daily book of ******* everyday

Please! Stop saying how happy you are
I'm barely breathing yet you barely recognize
I wanna tell you I'm still crying over my dead scar
From that lost star you begged me to chase and revitalize

Tonight, I will peacefully die
You will be sad, but you will be glad
Thank you for giving me a life
And *******, and them, for making me vile

You are my Vita in my fantasy
Young and brave with still a husband—
Who craves to be with me

Look away, I mustn't stare at you
How you are dressed, I mustn't adore you
But, too late, you are here again—

In a paroxysm of the swaying goddesses—
We danced with them under the veils

A mister I as well and still have—
Oh, if we were only maidens forever

But, too late, I love him still
While I still forbid me to love thee

Let us not escape tonight—
Tomorrow let us not see each selves

Only pals we shall be—
On a century, fate will fin'lly say we're meant to be

You won't read this but...
Out here, I write about you
Under your defying eyes

A 'someone,' you are
Reading Edgar and Agatha
Escaping commons and moderns

Astute, they said you are?

But, who are you to talk—
If what you say, is only what you see?
Tedious, that harangue you made
Clever, you think you are with classics on your shelf?
'Half-wit' must've done your name justice instead

Beautiful painting, you are...
What can I say...?
You breathed...
We laughed...
I ceased...

Were we...
Troubled minds...
I thought those were...
Stars, figments of what...?
Are those dirts we're staring at...?

Dreaming again, aren't we...?
Elusive words, shifty sights...
Again, they happen joyfully...
Dead as we are, alive we'll be.

I will not kiss the feet of the banker
For no desperation can trigger the sadder
Mother, father, it inn me ye shall pamper
I will not kiss the feet of that right-hander

I might not make it but I did my best
But you see only, seek only, the visions of a high-test
Told me to be like them, the rest
I might not make it because you made me a jest

I will not kiss the feet of your master
But I will make it for in my ego I must invest

You are my Vita in my visuals
Young and brave with a husband—
Who wishes to be with me

Flip your hand, I mustn't take it
How you are made, I mustn't allow it
But, too late, you are here now—

In a cavalcade of blue devils—
You embosomed me in your palace

A mister I as well have—
Oh, if I were only a maiden now

Too late, I love him
Where as well I love thee too

Let us leave tonight—
Tomorrow we must go back

Only tonight we'll sleep—
On the morrow we'll be old ladies again

Everybody's mourning
Gloomy, cloudy, morning
How will we be this evening?
If nothing's, anymore, worth doing?

These children, what do they know?
No, no, we mustn't show
They still glow, no more will they follow
Old, wait 'til they grow, and them they might sorrow

Why didn't we see him?!
Loathing, agonizing, must I scream!
Up to his last grim, never we saw his final dim
Suppose, now and hereafter, we must wait for the beam
Until we hold, embrace, talk, this time, in my sorrowful dream