4/10/26
10 Seconds:
Sitting at my table, I begin to think,
The clock is ticking away and away,
One second, two, three, then 5,
The minutes all but pass by.
Soon, I'll be sitting in front of a cake,
I'll be listening to the out-of-tune pitch of people singing,
'Happy Birthday', and I'll smile through it,
When deep inside I feel remorseful.
I don't like birthday's. I know some find them joyous,
But they scare me, they make me feel important.
I don't like when all the attention is on me.
Then I feel old, as the candles flicker brightly.
Blow them out, watch the smoke curl.
How many digits is it now? I tend to forget.
After my birthday, I feel no different.
My age feels... Insignificant.
10 days slowly slows,
10 hours left.
But there isn't hours, now there's only minutes.
Then the minutes are gone... and I'm left with seconds.
10...
9...
8...
6...
They skip and jump, up and down,
10 seconds. 10 seconds of time.
I wish I had more. I wish I was 7 again.
Because those 10 seconds then seemed like a hell of a lot more.
