I remember this day with grief, a great contradiction.

A part of me is bound for every year I become older.
With each passing hour, I bid farewell to the embrace of youth.

To commemorate this birthday, I grieve the loss of my previous flower.
I’m killing my younger self in a serious, sad ritual.

As the light of wisdom replaces the light of innocence and amazement,
The child I used to be, with such pure and wild fantasies,
A sweet inner child now sleeps in memory’s arms.

With lights glowing brilliantly and a delicious cake,
As stars in heaven sparkle, I lament what has vanished.

However, with each passing year, a new chapter is written.

A patchwork of stories gets told in the process of evolving.
So raise a glass to the youngster who used to play.

In this grieving celebration, a memorial to yesterday,
Because with each passing birthday, a piece of me dies.

But in the act of living, I’ll soar to the heavens.