Another year and still the same the endless dreadful after
shower of headaches and dead body covering the floor.
A wonder of (where the hell did big bird come from) and
(Who the one that was sick over the chair) .
Buckfast bottles and someone hair, the unsmoked joint sticking
out of your best mate ear.
That bruise on your arm that you know you didn't have 10 hours earlier
the black eyeliner you thought was good to that black dress you wished
you hadn't worn.
Another year and the idea that your that little bit more wiser to the horror of
what have you done with your life.
To the unnamed number pin to your door and the smell that someone washed
in cider.
For the birthday cake that was made with such love which also seem to be over
your friends face.
A big thank you for all that joined and gave the night the best that they could
but maybe next year let's just lock the door with a note on the door saying
THIS YEAR IM ON MY OWN.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem