On the eve of the anniversary of my birth
In retrospection I twirl
Mulling my fate over
Why hard rain always seems to fall on me, I wonder
In these hours of reverie
I keep my own company
Though a casualty of stolen sleeps
I count no proverbial sheep
This skin I’ve lived in
For so long is weathered and unbreathing
In my head, dirges play
Jarringly on a mental Steinway
Caught in this fog
I’m besieged by the black dog
And all kinds of ghost
Of days past and tomorrow unknown
Will I ever bloom with the flowers of May?
Because give or take
In thirteen thousand suns I have basked
But silver shadow, am yet to cast
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