Every birthday since eighteen I’ve felt not much different.

No older, no wiser.

Nineteen and twenty came and went,

it was getting pretty dire.

Twenty-one was wonderful,

I’m not one for a fuss but I felt like kinda a big deal.

It didn’t last for long, twenty-two arrived…

Birthdays are never as advertised.


Nothing really changed until twenty-three came along.

No more candles, no more balloons, seeing friends became a phenomenon.

I’m grateful, I’m loved,

My loved ones are not to be judged.


Blink 182 might be right…

Maybe twenty-three doesn’t agree

with me,

or anyone else for that matter.

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