A Birthday poem

A day out of 366

Stars spun around and spanned 

My words spiced with salts of a hysterics

The loneliness of which is damned

But joy I keep, is even


And when I sip, the life goes on

It’s all the same, resisting to the change

And if I stand all still and even,

Project myself as en fantôme

And if I choose no war to wage

These 366 summed up with 24H

Will be nothing more, but riven

a measure of a dummy’s age

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