Unluckily Lucky

Unluckily Lucky

What do you call luck?

For me, it’s a bit of a mindfuck.

Born in the wrong place,

From a fleeting embrace,

Came into this world unseen—

By luck, I wasn’t wiped clean.

Was it luck to be abandoned,

Or just fate in disguise?

Left behind, passed along—

One couldn’t, the next went wrong.

Better than the system, they say,

Yet somehow, I still lost my way.

Alcohol and violence filled the air,

But at least I had my own space there.

Books, paper, music—my escape,

A place where I could dream, create.

What is luck, really?

A school I hated, yet I made it.

Alcohol, drugs, and guns—

I saw it all, chased none.

Kept myself hidden,

Fearing no one would keep my secrets.

Creativity was weakness,

And to this day, I fear to release it.

But what is luck?

Is it a blessing or a cruel twist of fate?

A near-miss, an almost, a path gone astray?

The times I should’ve fallen

But somehow walked away?

The moments that shaped me,

Yet left me lost in the grey?

A life of survival, living on pause,

Waiting for my time,

For an open door,

For something more.

But is it too late?

Where’s the line?

When do you set fire to the dreams,

And leave them all behind?

Or do you hold on,

Keep pushing through,

Even when your shot may never come true?

Is that luck?

Does someone know?

Or did I just draw the short stick, and it’s time for me to go?

What the fuck, I’m stuck…

Well.... that is my unlucky luck.