vulgar words are the only thoughts I have when someone says
"Happy Birthday"
Birthday. Birth day. Day of Birth.
shit.
excuse my language, please do.
But, If only that bitch-of-a day didn't exist. I wouldn't be here staring at my wrists. Yesterday, when I kneeled down to pray I was at a loss of words. I bent my neck and stared at my hands. I opened my mouth and moths flew out, dancing around with my sorrow on their backs. This caused my stomach to drop, because those sorrow moths were what kept it up. All I could think to say was, I hate you. as I sat on my haunches like a prisoner of war being put to death. I rubbed and rubbed and rubbed my bottom lip. Why did he save me? Why. Tell me. Did I really choose this? I forget that I'm holding my breath and I let it out like a sigh so forceful, it could bust through my chest. Hate you? do I hate you? Shit, I don't even know you. I look to my left and see the layer of dust on your book. The anger keeps filling me up. How long have I been kneeling like this? Motionless... In the silence. As a war breaks out in my head. I'm so confused. I push my hair back as if it will stop the attack. The battle rages on....
"Happy Birthday"
happy birthday.
