Phenomenal Bad Luck
Saw a black cat in a department store.
Bad omens pounding at my door.
I welcome them, let's see.
Are they truly as evil as they're said to be?
Nicked the puss.
He's riding shotgun.
Back home.
Umbrella open n’all.
It purrs, passes salt.
Well, it also ate my hamster, but that’s the food chain’s fault.
It bought me a bird.
Dead, of course.
Love the cat.
Such a comfort.
Poetry about me
I never write poetry about me
For fear of sounding petty
Petty like the pronoun I
I feel
I was
I am
Annoying. Infuriating.
I don’t find much value in things that happen to me
Like that boy I like
Now why on earth would I write about that
When I could just
De
com
pose
Memories, imaginary mind fuss.
Poetry about you
There are poems about me,
Now one for you.
One day you’ll read this,
What I go through.
Maybe this is a way,
of unchaining myself from you.
You’re like sugar. Delicious.
A bloody bane to my soul.
I hate you.
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