My biological birth anniversary is coming,
Just two weeks are still remaining.
Turning I shall be twenty-nine,
I hope to be at my birthday fine.
Study I shall more for my exams,
These won't get over till later days.
The toughest examination I wrote,
With my blood, I had written it.
May 7th, you know the day,
It is my second birthday.
Second birthday as a disaster,
A disaster that was averted.
The year was Twenty Ten,
Fall I did off the bike then.
Plunged into a deathly coma,
I scared both my Pa and Ma.
However, here I am, rhyming again,
Writing poems to forget the pain.
Dec 8, 2019
Dec 8, 2019 at 2:03 PM UTC
My biological birth anniversary is coming,
Just two weeks are still remaining.
Turning I shall be twenty-nine,
I hope to be at my birthday fine.
Study I shall more for my exams,
These won't get over till later days.
The toughest examination I wrote,
With my blood, I had written it.
May 7th, you know the day,
It is my second birthday.
Second birthday as a disaster,
A disaster that was averted.
The year was Twenty Ten,
Fall I did off the bike then.
Plunged into a deathly coma,
I scared both my Pa and Ma.
However, here I am, rhyming again,
Writing poems to forget the pain.
My HP Poem #1816
©Atul Kaushal
