The Lucky Girl

March 17, 1997, under the four-leaf clover,
- a symbol of faith, hope, love, and luck -
Was born a baby girl who would have none.
She lived her childhood in the shadows,
Trying desperately to hide from the chaos,
To piece together the monstrosity of her life.
There were no constants in her little world.
New homes, new faces, new places, new lies.
It crafted a remarkably sensitive individual
Who learned to camouflage her feelings
While allowing them to slowly rot her interior.
So much of her life spent beclouded in grief,
Mourning the loss of things she never held:
A family, lasting friendship, uninhibited hope,
A sense of self, of peace, of belonging.
Words and feelings of love set things aflame,
Torching everything she gingerly touched.
Faith and hope felt like mythical creatures:
Pretty on paper, in thought, but still unreal.
Luck was just as fleeting, she found.
Giving tiny fragments but taking much more.
The moment she’d let herself fall as their prey
She would find herself the fool. Again.
Wondering what she’s done to warrant this,
Breaking her very own heart over and over.

She does not consider herself the lucky girl,
One bestowed the values of the leafy clover.
The world stripped her of its attributes
The moment she took her very first breath.
Life already deeming her unworthy,
Destined to dream for more than this.