I keep on saying I don’t care

That I don’t need a hand to hold

That luck is fickle and fleeting- a lesson retold.

I thought I sought perfection,

But you, like everyone-even imperfect-

Draw me. Your uneven and unpredictable line of movement,

That I know every step

Like a prayer I wish myself Good Luck in vain

Always the afraid never the brave to feel anything

In the end all I impose is hardships trying to be perfect but in the end it only brings pain.

Good Luck next time!