Birthday Poem

Birthday Cake

Writing hides once every year
amidst the partying and the cheers.
My mind fogs in the candles blazing and twinderling on the cake,
the velvet frost evading the melting wax.
There would be songs all around,
 yet I found nothing in those lyrics.

I keep staring at the desolate colors, burning the entire room.
They chant to blow the candles
and I’m not so sure what to do.

It is a time of happiness,
so to say, but really it’s a countdown
until your days are fully numbered and
you go down the trap
which keeps you there until you feel needed again.

I blow the candles out.
The lights flicker on
and silver slices white.

Everyone cheers as the white coated cake
is passed about, like trophies to the underserved.
I stay silent,
trying to keep the smile playing on my face,
but the fog only entraps me more.

The clock ticks and the countdown has begun.
To a new time in a new age,
to a new life
(that only rejuvenates once every year),
and to luck
that might not serve me well.