Moment Of Youth Mantra Comments

I am superstition like a black cat walking over cracked pavement and discarded four-leaf clovers under a ladder. There's a hat on my bed, another thing gone missing from my head.
Like a Jackson Pollack in white-lined notebook pages my words splatter
As if it didn't matter if they rhymed.
Or if the sounds and measure don't measure up to the beat you wanted to march to in that other guys eardrums. I can see my self clearer through shards of broken mirror
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