To another birthday, please enjoy your year.
Three hundred sixty-five days away from legally drinking bear.
Sure it started off shaky, with your brother put in jail,
after crashing your dad's car somewhere but money cannot bail.
Yet called fifteen minutes prior, by someone who still cares,
a conversation was enjoyed even though felt through despair.
The years before were held with glee, even through the pain,
from departure to hospital visits to standing in the rain.
What doctors said for what you pay, medications worked enough,
with side effects to thoughts of suicide you would rather have it rough.
The mistress sang and wrote her poems, which you listen to every morn,
the dreams which bound throughout your brain seem to be a norm.
Financial issues and crying tissues were things that never set,
for every day there's one step closer to the dream you'd wish you'd get.
The lovers visit, and friendships fade whilst family degrades,
though you'll still remember what happened between your special dates.
To another birthday, where I am not a teen.
To another birthday, and what I've yet to see.