Countless

[tectak]

Twice in a fortnight my family's gathered to celebrate birthdays.
Today I heard a cheer through my bathroom window;
other families are having other celebrations,
and so the unimportance of a single life is proven to me.
We are all born, then loved or hated, then die,
from the cruellest monster to the frailest girl,
spinning like dancers through barbecues and tea parties,
a little older each time. Nothing is immortal or alone.

Hijack,
I have read the crits and do not fancy having a poke at this one BECAUSE it is a recurring thought which I, too, have but find it very difficult to express in verse....it is perhaps one of those thoughts which cannot be expressed without giving up too much of one's innermost self. I tried to get it out once with my "Soul trader", posted on this site I think, which ends:
"Yet is one man so very like another,
that difference makes no matter in the round?
And is it he, the one you thought you cried for,
or just another, dead upon the ground."
Sorry to plagiarise myself on your thread but this is the nearest you will get to flattery
I like it for all the wrong reasons and for all the right reasons I will say no more.
Best,
tectak