Just another number,
another year,
an extra candle,
a cliche lit up cake.
When the clock strikes twelve,
born again, grateful, or reminiscing-
its yet another year,
an extra candle at the end of it,
and a cliche lit up cake.

Does anything come in between?
anything aside from monotony?
Have faith on fate.

Pain - the opposite of happiness,
yet they have never been able to identify themselves as separate entities.
Pain and happiness,
best friends with their paths aligned for a lifetime.
Yet, what best explains the relationship between love and people best.
Pain is inevitable.
Alas, the gifted, the extraordinary,
they spend lifetimes lurking,
creeping up on pain,
wondering if its ready to accept them,
and hold them captive forever.

Pearls of perspiration form at the tip of my forehead
As I lay feeling lethargy build up in my veins
Frozen, as the sun awakens on a brilliant summer day

The ill and the sorrowful
I do believe I am part of
But nay! I refuse to collectively believe
I am no longer filled with zeal
That my bones carry no extraordinary strength
That my soul does not want to further feel

Love, passion and absolution
The things that give us hope
To show that the ill and sorrowful are not dead yet