Another drowning year, another nameless day.

Formats of cards, wishing stars and fake teddy bears.

Short sayings, with a signed name.

Gifts not wrapped, with envelopes of money.

On this day, early in the morning.

A small baby cried, for a mother who was too high to breastfeed.

Stuck in the hospital until weened off of the drug, the sickening beast that hunts.

No party, just small groups that fan out and soon disappear.

Happy birthday, too me.