Happy Birthday

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I’m 21

just waiting to die.

I know it’s a young age

to say such things,

but my soul already feels old

or stolen and broken by the world.

You see,

I found a place to leave my heart

with people safe and pure.

Then I walked without a heartbeat

with a promise to return.

But I can’t retrace my tracks.

I can’t turn the clock back.

My incomplete soul spurned,

for time’s lock was too secure.

So I let my mind take charge,

confident in where I tread.

I stepped forward

toward a new heart,

though disaster whispered in my head

And those both in and outside,

who’d say I’ve lost my mind,

wouldn’t let me bury my dead.

Their burdens added to my shoulders,

though I’m reduced to a cadaver

for what seems like forever.

And so,

here I lay

counting the days one-by-one.

I'm just 21

waiting to die.