Luck: A Collection of Poetry

4. Friday the 13th

4. FRIDAY THE 13TH

Today is Friday the thirteenth,

It’s not the twelfth of fifteenth.

It’s a day that is perceived to be scary,

But it’s nothing more to me than funny.

Walking under open ladders, cracked mirrors and spilled salt,

Cracks of backs when stepping on fractured asphalt.

Umbrellas opened up indoors and black cats,

Just hope one doesn’t cross your path.

It’s all happened to me,

I thought it was all crazy.

Now I sit up in a hospital bed,

Thinking about Friday’s dread.

It rained not too long ago, much like before,

My finger slipped, opening my umbrella early indoors.

And later, when I walked right outside,

A black cat came running into sight.

Being in my way, I walked under an open ladder,

And had seven mirrors all accidentally shatter.

I spilled salt at dinnertime all over the table,

And cracked someone’s back, leaving them disabled.

Now I sit here in a very happy place where I must stay,

As my bad luck has driven me to insanity.

The men in white took me away,

And now tell me, with a glass and a pill, everything will be okay.

I walk up to the window and look outside,

My white clothes shining in the faint sunlight.

I wonder how long my bad luck will last,

I’m sure it will be around many years after I pass.

Today is Friday the thirteenth, a day of bad luck,

I’ve found out why as I sit down, for I’m stuck.

It’s a day the paranoid all fear,

But a day I know I will definitely remember.