Another year pasts, older I become the more I see. Birthday parties have lost their touch. Two, five, nine, fourteen, as I strum the fiddle of life. But what was the cost?
Cake and balloons don't cut it anymore, Laughing and singing with family is now a burden. Lit candles are a bore. My eyes are opened, ignorance is bliss. I do not mean to be so ungrateful,
But there happens to be an ungodly amount of strings attached. I'm not able to pay them back for their trinkets. Oddly enough that spesh day was never stable,
Except you didn't remember my birthday, but I never did like it anyway.