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Poem #4: Unbirthday


To exist, is to excruciate.

Wish I could get through

like an ordinary day

which in itself is extraordinary.

Wish I could suspend

the memories in some medium

and lie dormant alongside.

Wish I could doze off

in a deep slumber

hoping I do not wake up.

I can only wish.

When every day is an anguish

why then one has to be special?

Especially, the day that perpetuated it.

Why do we even celebrate

when the why is still being figured out?

The greatest gift one can get

after being born is to become unborn.

But unfortunately, this is unattainable.

And so, we look forward to the Savior,


- Maddie

Author's Note:

  • If you find any mistakes or need for improvements please comment or reach out to me.

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