Take your Luck – A poem by Philip Wardlow

Shut the hell up cuz you got luck
so take it and run with it.

The suitcase I carry isn’t full
of the…
or Maneki-neko lucky cats.
It’s got more of the broken bits
of mirrors that I have collected
over the years or the dead black
cats that have called it home…

Sure your pain is yours,
own it…I don’t care,
but don’t ever think it compares
to my level of despair.
Don’t whine and don’t bitch while
your lucky number seven sits on your
back and lifts you up while my
thirteen has been nothing but mean
to me, bringing me down to depths
that hell can’t even see.

I have my magpie of sorrow
who talks to me often…he thinks
it a joke to lead to me believing
that the world works at times.

But I do care for the lucky ones, so
don’t let him catch your eye.

Take your luck and run with it,

and maybe just maybe you won’t
end up with the same luck as me.

By Philip Wardlow  2012

bad luck1

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