It's 12:01 a.m.
On two-twenty eight
My life isn't over
But i've suffered my fate
And although i know
I still can't think
My heart, it throbs
Every time i blink
Third person, limited
Objective is the view
Drunk with sadness
Don't know what to do
The point is coming
It's coming pretty soon
For this poem, this poem
This poem on the moon
I mention the day
Because it's a special one
An anniversary of sorts
When a miracle was done
She'll be happy, i hope
But i'll never really know
She's a flower, right,
'Cept she needs space to grow
I'll ***** my heart out
If i go on much more
At least it's not another poem
About the stupid *****
So feliz cumpleaños
My sweet girl
I hope you wish...
Whoops, gotta hurl!