Birthdays


    Another day, another year. When was it that I cease to care?


    It doesn''t feel like an achievement. Not a thing to celebrate.


    There''s grey in my hair. On my shoulders weight.Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.


    Nothing quite prepared me for turning twenty-eight.


    The days are moving far too swift.


    The months they seem to blur.


    Sometimes I look back and wonder


    At what my dreams they were


    And I know I deserve some blame for it


    That I became a falling star


    I don''t celebrate my birthday


    What would I celebrate for.