One whole year.
Whats changed?
Hair colour? 
220 cigarettes have past your lips.
But theres still no need for a different number

People drop there grudge 
and hold you for a split second
Your mouth smiles, eyes don't

Put on a few pounds?
Saved a few too.
You look back to grimey year
Only 80 odd left
If your lucky

Bath bombs from grandma
You think: Will i end up like that?
Bath bombs. 

Happy Birthday.

(My first poem, wil probably be edited.)