Poem: HB

The day I hate the most,

The one that most people love.

The day people cannot wait for it to come around,

Scares me to my soul.

I fear it coming day by day.

I am grateful for the day, but I cannot love it for what it has cause.

That day has given hurt, lost, and love.

It happens at the beginning of the year, so I can never forget it.

To some it may seem a good day, or an earth day.

The day that holds so much good but is also filled with even more pain.

To think the beginning could also mean the end of another.

If not the end, the news that something might later that year.

When I was younger it used to be joyous,

That change almost 20 years ago.

For me I call it my death day, some will say happy birthday.

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