My Birthday Is a Curse

I hate my birthday. It's more of a depressing time, feeling that same hurt, that i try to so hard to not exert. I used to love my birthday. Until the tragedy of my dad. Forced me as a child, to feel nothing but sad. Each year is brings back a painful memory you see, which is something that seems to always find a way to come back and haunt me. The memories that should be happy, are the ones that turn into the worst to remember. My birthday forces me to feel that pain, a day consisting of late night crying pouring down like rain. Staring at the same old picture, singing the same old sad song, trying to sob myself to sleep, but only managing to stay up all night long. My birthday makes me angry, for it to dare come around, making me feel the way i do, putting me in a state of blue. You bring his smile to my thoughts, causing tears down my eyes, talking to that picture, with slow and sobbing sighs. My birthday likes my pain, i know it must feed on it, wondering how much longer i will stay sane. One day feels like so many years, somehow making life worse, my birthday is a curse.