I guess I'm just unlucky,
After all, I was born on March 13th, which was a Friday,
Nearly at 3:13 A.M..
Aren't I a cursed child?
Maybe that's why every relationship,
Whether platonic or faintly romantic,
Leaves me hurt and bruised and covered with contusions;
Sometimes I wish I were born a day before or after.
Friend group imploded, first love nearly killed me,
Friend-zoned by the one I hoped would love me too.
Surrounded by people who may care about me,
But I'm too battered and broken to know.
I've stabbed two knives in my eyes,
Feeling around for friends,
Hoping to avoid the vipers in disguises,
Marching toward a bitter end.
Aren't I unlucky?
Maybe I'd win the lottery.
Nov 17, 2025
Nov 17, 2025 at 10:30 PM UTC
I guess I'm just unlucky,
After all, I was born on March 13th, which was a Friday,
Nearly at 3:13 A.M..
Aren't I a cursed child?
Maybe that's why every relationship,
Whether platonic or faintly romantic,
Leaves me hurt and bruised and covered with contusions;
Sometimes I wish I were born a day before or after.
Friend group imploded, first love nearly killed me,
Friend-zoned by the one I hoped would love me too.
Surrounded by people who may care about me,
But I'm too battered and broken to know.
I've stabbed two knives in my eyes,
Feeling around for friends,
Hoping to avoid the vipers in disguises,
Marching toward a bitter end.
Aren't I unlucky?
Maybe I'd win the lottery.
