Hushed silence fills the room
Do we celebrate or mourn?
For a birthday is a useless attempt when your singing to a ghost.
A birthday is life, it is a room full of windows with the sun settling on your face, acting as a warm comforting hug. It is a scent that appears and makes you reminisce about a certain time in your childhood when you smelt that exact scent, it is the rare moment when your mind is at ease and silent with no burdening thoughts. It is what you brought to the world not what you took away from it.
What a paradox, how death makes us write about life.
Do we celebrate or mourn?