Lucky Charms, Curses, Superstitions And Old Wives' Tales Poem

I never kept a rabbit’s foot,
Was never one for lucky charms.
Not even a four leaf clover,
To protect against life’s harms.

A black cat can cross my path,
Cast on me your gypsy curse.
For I’m immune to it all,
Immerse me in fate’s worse.

I deliberately spill the salt,
Do spit upon a lucky penny.
Of foolish old wives tales,
I don’t believe in any.

I love to walk under ladders,
Then on that pavement crack.
I’m never ever the victim,
Of superstitious payback.

I always hear owls hooting,
That somebody will soon die.
I don’t believe in karma,
A fact I’ll never deny.

I’ve broken many a mirror,
Exactly seven years ago.
The best years of my life,
Good things they did bestow.

I put my shoes on the table,
As soon as I get home.
Next to the open umbrella,
Now its no longer alone.

I live at number thirteen,
Where dogs howl at night.
And no fortune cookies exist,
Offering their false foresight.

And if you believe or not,
That’s simply up to you.
It’s only a matter of time,
To see if any come true…