On my 45th birthday:
I am good with my word, happy to let my secrets be heard.
Circling the drain once again, feels warm as the water pulls me in.
Belief in these expectations, and I’ve played the fool.
Buying all the hype, fitting every stereotype, won’t you tender me?
Waited so long for this to become a reality.
Time and time again, failed me, failed you, failed everyone I knew.
I like when it all goes right, but it’s an exhaustive fight,
breaks my heart, the lost art.
No fault in being human, no fault in being less than.
Either way I’m good…