Another birthday, that you’ve missed,
Two more cheeks, you didn’t kiss.
One more gift, you won’t be buying,
No more ribbons, will you be tying.
No more party dresses, lovingly chosen,
No more toys bought, just to be broken.
No more books to read, no lullabys to sing,
No more popping round, to see if I am in.
No more meals to cook, no cups of tea to make,
No more lies to tell, no happiness to fake.
No more promises, will you have to hear spoken,
From no more nightmares, will you have to be woken.
No more calls to make, no letters to be written,
No more days to wait, for comfort to be given.
No more tears to cry, no sins to be forgiven
No more failed attempts, to escape from your prison.
No more disappointments, no more shattered dreams,
No more cuts to heal, no more muffled screams.
No more anything, that’s all that you have left
A fact that, more than you, I now need to accept.