By daily 
Today is my birthday, but it doesn’t feel like it. As I lay on this cold street, my eyes closed, hoping for just a moment of kindness, the world moves on around me, unaware of the quiet ache in my heart. No one has stopped to wish me well, no one has noticed the day that should have been special for me.
I’ve been here for hours, listening to the sounds of people passing by, but no one stops, no one sees me. My fur is worn, my body tired, but inside, I’m still hoping for just a little love, a simple acknowledgement that I exist, that I matter. It’s my birthday, and all I want is to feel the warmth of a gentle hand, to hear a soft voice wishing me a happy day. But instead, I’m left in the silence, feeling the weight of loneliness more than ever.
I’m not asking for much, just a moment of kindness, a reminder that I’m not forgotten. As the day fades into night, I’ll keep hoping, because even in the quietest moments, there’s a small part of me that believes someone will notice, that someone will care. But for now, it’s just me, the street, and the dream of a birthday that could have been filled with love.