I am scared of what this New Year will bring.
What basket of fruits will it share?
What coal in sacks will it place under the tree with care?

I am scared of the year I am leaving.
So much has happened; so much has passed.
So much could've been changed, but alas, the dye has cast.

I have forged new bonds and fortified the old ones.
I have unlocked accomplishments and worked hard with all the rising suns.

This year I have lost my best friend.
She has left to go to university while I still have a year to complete.
I am here, lonely with myself, with whom I can only speak.

I have found a crush that I love so deeply.
I fear his love does not ring the same frequency as mine.
Hopefully, by year's end, he will notice my eyes, and our hearts entwine.

For if his gaze misses mine,
Flowers will fill my lungs with the disease of Hanahaki,
to choke on my own one-sided love, folding my heart like origami.

Ominous like Chinese myth,
I fear the four in Two Thousand Twenty-Four.
I wish this year was a musical number; I'd beg for an encore.
© Myth