A poem | I feel nothing about being an 18; it’s just the same, only the number has changed._.

Birthday?

Happy 18? Let my poem speak up for that :)

Designed by Author

Mar 13, 2025, 6:56 AM

Birthdays are like graveyards,
only visited when remembered.

I see the sun drown, indicating
another drowned new year.

The clock struck twelve,
but the moment ain’t filled with happiness.

Another year passed just like last,
bringing me close to the last day.

The day when I will be buried,
will be my last buried-ay.

A beautiful day,
where I’ll be meeting my Allah.

Sept. written on my birthday date :)

once again, i see the clock
both hands strike 12

at the same time, my phone buzzes
a soft song for my own birthday

it was a reminder of my existence
that i have been brought into this dark abyss