For seventeen years I celebrated this day,
the day of my birth in December not May.
I went for a birth certificate to join the navy,
but was told \"I\'m sorry son, you do not exist\".
Everything stopped as his words seemed a ploy,
I\'ve always thought I was a lost millionaire\'s boy.
Exchanged at birth, to be born into abject poverty,
Instead of living a life of daily excessive luxury.
All I could now hear was that old wall clock,
as its hands went around with a tick and a tock.
Back to the land of the living, returning with a bump,
Your birthdays on the fifteenth you silly great lump.
When I finally got home and told mum this story,
she said sorry son,I have not covered my self in glory.
Each year on this day these hours now remind me,
I wanted the millionaire to come back and find me.
A True Story....
Another weird thing is 13 has always been lucky for me..