Not trying to be mean, or ungrateful
But know this, that every year the day comes
I feel special, as I believe its my day and yet
The air is always bittersweet
It has always been
That another year has passed, another moment lost
That I have to fight, fight, and fight
Against all odds, for I don’t have you to cushion my fall
Every year, the day of happiness brings me sorrow
I don’t mean to be ungrateful but it’s moments like these
That I know, that I don’t run away from
That I miss you to the core of my being
Your voice, your smile, your style of writing.
My name, calling me out even in darkest of times.
It’s my birthday coming dad, and I miss you. And yet again I have to make peace with the fact that another year of struggle lies ahead and with your seat empty, it won’t be easy.
A battle with my head, smiles wiping away the pain,
And now I know that loss is your second name.