You look like a song I wrote in 8th grade-
Stupid
Naive
Depressing

Rediscovered under my bed in 10th grade, and
quickly burned into ashes with a lighter so no one else can glance upon it. 

You resemble words I swallow and keep stuck in the back of my throat for the sake of being liked by every person I've ever matched eyes with.

- the pimple I so desperately want to pop,

You are the gunk stuck in my fingernails,

Happy Birthday.