Bad Signs

Born under a bad sign, no chance for the good to align. Without bad luck I would have no luck at all. Filling my pockets; a dead shimmer calls. Fallen stars, one and all. Knocked from the sky by Cupid’s damned arrow. You have no Ken of what its like to carry my stars about. Knowing the potential that I live without. My Angel got lost on his way to me, and ended up on Bourbon Street. Now I have a demon on each shoulder and at my knee. They whisper and whisper and whisper to me. The devil avoids me and God can’t have me and I sing a whiskey lullaby to lull myself to dream. My dream a scene frozen in time, of dancing with angels under a predawn sky. Of whipping winds and warm spring rain. Of gods voice before my mark of Cain. Before I lay my soul to sleep; never more her desires to keep. Before I become two different girls an innocent; a whore; a mirror image with tempest rage in store. I sing a whiskey lullaby to hush my cry… to silence her sobs inside. Who is left? Who am I? I held her close until we meshed and now the pieces fit afresh but edges cut and there are jagged tears and now I have a new set of fears. I don’t remember which one I was. Or who I am. No longer do I remember the words to the lullaby… just that a shot of whiskey helps stop the cries. Am I human or am I beast? Was there ever a different set of heartbeats within me? Sing of whiskey, sing that you miss me, just sing so I can hear you through the mists. What happened to my true love and his kiss? How could he find another princess? God is gone, the devils dead all that’s left is me inside my head. Born under a bad sign under the wrong side of the moon. If bad luck doesn’t end me, loneliness will soon.

Authors blurb: some of us were born with bad luck. Without it we would have no luck at all.


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