Luck.

February 22, 2012
He knew what was to come on this Sunday.
There was no running, there was no hiding.
Paying off his debts only halfway, today
He could see his possessions subsiding.

He was rich back then, not a care to have
In his home, on the court; just like a playground.
Then this one day he fell, ripping his calf,
Killing his ability to rebound.

Then at McDonald’s his luck shot up,
A time he believed would never come.
He peeled that tiny strip off the cup,
Screaming with joy, looking crazy to some!

Hundreds of thousands fell into his lap,
And the repo men could not take a scrap.





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