Grief Lament Mental Health Poetry

The Year I Was 31

December 1, 2019

It started off like any other year.
Except without birthday cake and candles.
The year I was 31 made me out to be
What I never imagined I would become.
With fear, regret and shame nipping at my heels
As I enter the year I turn 32,
The breathe from my lungs
Blows out imaginary candles
As I whisper a wish with trembling lips.
I do not know what it will take to heal
The gaping wound left in my soul,
But that is what I wished for
As the light went out from the room
And all that remained was the ghost of
All that 31 took from me.
What remains is a body
One year older than the last,
A few texts wishing me Happy Birthday
To remind me that
With what is left,
Maybe 32 won’t be as bad.
God, please, I beg.

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