happy birthday

my madness
was once a mere
until the day
my father
passed away

since then
it has been a
constant struggle
keeping the pieces
in a semblance of
working order

more often
a failed attempt
as the mountains
crumbled into
the dark waters
of dire depression

a life lived alone
whispering love
to the sparrows
uncertain if any of
these thoughts
are actually real

it is cold
in the shadow he
still casts
the analgesic rays
of golden light
bring no warmth

old spice
miller lite
and marlboro reds
scattered paperbacks
half dreamt surrender
and a weeping fool

i miss you
every single day

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