brightly dimmed
as Luck strolls in,
often exaggerating
its beauty, transparent
and florescent
The mouths of fate
walk around with arsenals
of bitterness rolling inside
Tongue and cheek,
stained with metallic jealously
as the beauty of luck
puts power in a chokehold.
It's hard to forgive them
for crashing the party and
causing a fight.
This time, I'll stand
in the corner
with my broom and wait.