Bad Luck

Now and then, bad luck can shame you
and make you gloomy.
The hurt in the heart bemuses and frustrates.
Everything you carry out reeks of desperation.
The other lot will have their criticism—
everywhere, some bending and harassment.
Your face pulls down.
Your mouth shuts.
All over, your every act feels defective.

---

Everywhere, you are wrong—
and you infect others.
The grave is your true place.
Whatever you attain or find
turns out to be meaningless.
All endeavors crumble to nothing.
One way or another, your people hurt you.
They go off beam,
splitting the same old smash-up.

---

Why do these things come so erratically,
sticking for a week or two?
Every walk you walk,
every talk you talk
diffuses your face into nothing.
Nothing counts.
All gone astray, dishonored.
Those days push you down,
and you bear the weight wearily.

---

When bad luck comes slithering,
you fall into the chasm of omission.
Nobody heeds you.
And there is nobody you can take care of—
not even yourself.

---

At this time, you think and think,
but of all wrongs,
nothing hits back.
Your world turns sinister.
You cringe your mind thick,
you think—
but your hurts only multiply in your heart,
piling beyond what you ever imagined.

At this point, you must be more cautious
and more conscious.
Because the dark doesn't warn you twice.