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Closer to the end, soon with this birthday of mine
A celebration for the occasion is not befitting
Years side by side in an invisible waiting line
And I haven’t a clue how many years are sitting

On my day they used to celebrate the departed souls
And to honor the saints with candles and such
Now it is witches, skeletons, grim reapers and owls
As if my beloved day fell under a demon’s clutch

The streets are dark, darkness dim
Young creatures lurk and roam the street
With larger creatures behind and dressed as grim
Leading the legion’s march to trick or treat

Poor birthday of mine a scene of horror
They come as Satan’s guests if a party is thrown
Best wishes and gifts from creatures of terror
As if they came to pay respect, to the wretched throne

Not celebrated for years because of the curse
Instead in my nest I listen to blues music play
And deep in my heart I know it could be worse
I could have been born on Christmas day
Β©FAT 2014