i've knocked on wood so hard my knuckles turn purple, they wonder why they had to be pawns in my game;
i've broken so many wishbones in hopes of fixing my brittle ones, specifically the knees i've fallen onto every night yelling at god to give me some of the happiness that everyone promises me i'm going to get
i've stuffed so many lucky charms into my mouth and still i only see the hope leaving my body, no luck of the irish for me, no *** of gold despite the burns i get from sliding down the rainbow
it was promised. it was.
i threw so many teeth over the roof that stopping the bleeding when they hit the soil became my new hobby
because which each part of me that i ruined trying to give out to the people who never cut me some slack, i always picked up the wrong end of the blade and sliced myself right back
if luck is real,
i was born on friday the 13th,
i've always been driving in a car without a fuzzy dice,
black cats are constantly crossing me on the sidewalk and i've spilled salt all over these wounds. my first birthday present was a clock and i can't turn back the time, on my wedding day my husband sees me in my dress before the ceremony, when he walks down the aisle he wonders why it had to be me. the shorter end of the stick pokes me in the side and reminds me it's all i ever get.
It was believed Macbeth was a cursed play, plagued by the death of the first Lady MacBeth. Actors were to avoid saying the name in theatre.
The opening lines were,
"When shall we three meet again?
In thunder, lightning, or in rain?"
I'm afraid my life has been all three