The choir I call my family
Finishes the last notes,
Flat, but friendly and familiar,
“To you”
To me
For making it through seventeen years
I stare into the candles
Lighted not like sparklers on the Fourth of July,
Another birthday more important than mine,
But calmly, a smooth flame on each wick
Each filled with hurt and anger of the past year,
All shoved into these small forms of heat
So I can put the flames of burden to rest

But I know better
That just because it’s October eighth,
All my wishes will come true
I know better
But I believe
That maybe, just maybe
This will be better than the last
That this will truly top the others
That my pain will go away,
With one quick movement
I can walk away from the problems
That is why
I blow on the candles