Midnight in December, 2005

For the past five years, on the eve of my birthday, I sit at my desk and write a poem. The first line is always the same: It’s Midnight in December. It’s always based on my perception of how the year went, and my expectations of the year to come. Before last year, I’d never shared these poems with anyone. Last year, I shared it for about thirty minutes before I decided to yank it. Basically, they’ve always been dark. This year, though, I’ve given four billion strangers permission to butt into my life by writing about it on the Internet. So what the hell? Here are a couple of previous years, followed by the one from last night.

Midnight in December, 2002 (28)

It’s Midnight in December
A year behind my back
Twenty-eight in total
piled on the stack

Another night to wonder
why I bother here
Again I sit in dread
as I face the coming year

The Solstice is upon me
and grateful that I am
That this is the shortest fucking day of the year.

Midnight in December, 2003 (29)

It’s Midnight in December
and I have lost my way
A waste of time behind me
and nothing good to say

The months were spent on nothing
Chased the things I dreamed
Tried to find The Lady
who wasn’t who she seemed

The hunt continues on, then
Searching for the One
Beating this dead horse
to try and make it run

Midnight in December, 2004 (30)

It’s Midnight in December
and here I’m feeling old
A day of celebration
and here I’m feeling cold

Another year behind me
Another wasted year
Another year before me
A new one filled with fear

Midnight in December, 2005 (31)

It’s Midnight in December
And here I sit awake
Another year behind me
Contentment in its wake

A New Year’s Resolution
to guide me through the days
A chance to start all over
and change my lonely ways

It’s Midnight in December
but I am not afraid
I have my friends around me
and new friends to be made

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