33

Thirty-three candles, flicker on the cake,

A year younger, heart starts to ache.

No mansion stands tall, no fortune I hold,

Just bills in the mailbox, a story untold.

The weight of the world, on these weary shoulders,

Society whispers, its judgments unfold.

A man's worth, they say, in ledgers defined,

But success isn't measured, in coins left behind.

Debt's heavy chains, a constant refrain,

The dream of "providing," feels lost in the rain.

But wait, is provision, just cold, hard-earned cash?

Or can love be the shelter, in life's fiercest clash?

A steady embrace, a hand to hold tight,

Laughter that chases away, the darkest of night.

Building a future, on trust and on care,

These are the riches, a man should declare.

So let the clock tick, its rhythm won't break,

This journey's my own, a new path I'll take.

With grit and with focus, I'll rise from the fall,

Thirty-three's just a chapter, the best yet to sprawl.