It's my birthday morning
I woke up to chats and laughs
Akin to those of sneering hyenas
From my roommates plotting my downing
My spirit buzzed with joy
But my limbs quaked and my skin froze
With fear, fear of an hundred buckets of cold water
Belts, cassava powder, and varieties of
Grimy fluids I'd rather not think of.

I cuddled closer to my blanket like it was snowing in.
My phone buzzed to life as birthday wish
After birthday wish flew in, warming my heart.
But just then a roommate approached
With a smile none less sinister
Than Adolf Hitler smiling at a jew.
My heart lept cold.
I flew out of my room chased by my friends
Each branding a bucket
Or bowl of torture.
I escaped.

And here I am, safe,but in the open
Anticipating attack, with only my underwears on.
As my skin tingles with goosebumps
Writing this cold, frightened poem
I ask you all, what exactly is a birthday about?