Happy Birthday (Poem)

Age: just a number;
Numbers: just symbols —

Numbers to count the years,
the unforgettable nights and then the tears.
Symbols to remind us of nothing
or everything that has given us life.

Air — blood — rushing through veins,
and skin encasing the meat and nerves within.

It is life.
It is wealth.
It is every year.

– Brittany Rose

Author’s Notes: I know I said to expect this the other day, but hey, I tried. Better late than never, no? (:


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