Happy Birthday.

I'm singing Happy Birthday,
It doesn't sound the same,
I'm singing about how I miss you,
But it's just too hard to say you're name.

I'm wishing that I could see you,
I'm wishing that I could call,
I'm wishing that I could touch you,
I'm wishing for it all.

I'm making your Birthday Wish for you,
I'm trying not to cry,
The Wish I make, in your place,
Is that you didn't have to die.

I'm going out to buy you orchids,
I'm going to go get you a card,
I'm going to smell the flower's sweetness,
But to write your name is just too hard,

I've been sitting here all morning,
Wondering what to do,
Wondering whether to go back to bed,
Or to sit here and just think of you.

I don't know what to do with myself,
I think of you every day,
I don't think I can handle this,
My sunshine is fading away.

It's your Birthday today,
The sixth of the first,
I'm glad that you didn't want a grave,
I'm thankful I didn't have to see a hearse.

I've been told by many it all gets easier,
The bastards are telling me lies,
It's not getting any easier,
As the days keep passing by.

This gnawing, biting, freezing cold,
The emptiness I feel inside,
It's been six months since the day,
For one hundred and ninety-two days, I've cried.

I still wear your t-shirt,
I still wear your dog-tag,
I still have your dressing gown,
And I still have your old nap-sack.

But none of those things could ever be,
What we once had,
Between you and me.

I have your Ashes, Papa,
I picked them up from Chris,
He said that the pain would ease,
But it's never been more painful than this.

Happy Birthday, my Hero,
I'll sing your song all day,
It hurts too much to say your name,
So today, you're Mr. Gray.

Penned by my hand on the 21st of Vita, in the year 569 AD.