“The Heaviest Day of the Year"

If they heard my silent cries,
if they felt the ache behind my eyes,
the intimacy of “if they knew,”
a truth too deep for words to shine through—
they would build the bridges, cross every tide,
swim every ocean just to be by my side,
just to make sure their baby girl was alright inside.

Sitting alone in my dark room, a day before my birthday,
this loneliness inside me grows heavier each passing day;
that gut-wrenching pain whispering, if only they were here,
because they’d make sure I had a new dress for my day so dear.

They never plan surprises well, but they’d still find a way
to bring me my favourite cake — sweet pineapple, my birthday’s ray.
And the only peace my heart holds close, the only thing that makes me stay,
is knowing that if they were here, everything would feel okay.
The feeling of “I am someone’s baby girl,” in every tender way —that feeling, that truth, that love… I never want it to fade away.

Trembling hands and shivering lips, I left from work a day before the 25th,
I wanted to feel excited this time, but that void inside me pulled me back like a drift.
One whole year has passed — and yes, you survived, you did better than you ever thought,
yet there’s still this unfamiliar pain, a quiet ache you’ve never quite caught or fought.
And only if I could see my father, just for a moment in the fading light,
to hold his hand and softly whisper, “Papa… your baby girl is not alright.”

I don’t know how to fight that feeling, I don’t know how to make it fade,
just for once, I wished for a perfect day — the kind of joy I’ve never truly made.
Just a peaceful, quiet, happy one, a moment where my heart felt kind,
but here I am again in solitude, wrestling shadows inside my mind.
Fighting my way through this darkness, aching for a little light to guide,
just wanting to keep walking, somehow, to reach the other side of the tunnel with steady stride.

Take me home — to the people I matter to,
to the ones who hold my name like a prayer,
who would break their own bones before letting mine ache.

Take me back, take me back —
to the warmth I was born from,         
to the arms that never questioned my worth.

Let me hold them tight, just once more,
because this world is heavy and my heart is bruised,
and tonight…
I am done pretending I’m strong.
I am done fighting alone.