Bad Luck

In shadows cast by fortune’s fickle hand,

Where hopes dissolve like grains of shifting sand,

I walked the path where dreams lay in decay,

Bad luck, a specter, led my steps astray.

Each dawn, a canvas tainted by the gray,

Each dusk, a promise lost, swept far away.

The fates conspired with whispers soft but cruel,

Their silent laughter, ever the same rule.

Yet in this dark, where solace rarely gleams,

A spark persists through desolation's schemes.

Resilience burns, defying endless night.

For bad luck’s grip, though cold and full of spite,