You've got an anchor 'round your neck and a thorn in your side.
You've got a knack for picking the slow line, but it's your cross to bear,
Because to hear you tell it (time after time),
If it weren't for bad luck,
You'd have no luck at all.
And though you'd love to make lemonade from all the lemons life has given you, it just isn't possible,
Because you're allergic to citrus.
Ah, but here's something that you really need to know:
Long after you've fled the scene of your whine,
Your "woe" lingers and offends,
Like the spray from a skunk,
On a hot and sticky summer night.
Copyright 2015 Christopher V. DeRobertis. All rights reserved.
This text composition is a work of fiction. Names, places, institutions, events, incidents, characters, persons, locations, contexts, scenes, scenarios, symbols, glyphs, iconography, and/or organizations either are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Full Creative Writing Disclaimer.