Roses and Four Leaf Clovers

This poem is dedicated to one of the strongest and greatest people I have the pleasure of being friends with.

My world is a plateau above the ocean,

A raging sea of hatred and fear and depression,

And I stand on the edge of a cliff whose name I should mention,

But I shall: The Cliff of Insanity, The Precipice of Neural Detention.

I look down on the raging sea that beckons me forth,

And I realize that the ball is now in my court,

Do I pass on his offer or shoot for my luck?

Do I pass to be safe or risk a shot that may suck?

The dirt I stand on tries to force me over,

Catapult me by taking the land out under my feet,

But then I spot a patch of roses and four leaf clovers,

That decides to send me a message that I should compete:

Compete against my negative inhibitions,

Stop myself before I give in,

That I should follow my ambitions,

And to not be let down by my own ups and downs.

The roses and four leaf clovers are my saviors and my life,

They who protect me from every sort of strife,

I pluck them and carry them home and put them in a vase,

So that their constant support and love I no longer need to chase.

The flowers forced me away from the Cliff of Insanity,

And I then love those flowers, with every bit of my delivered sanity,

They who protect from pain, hatred, and vanity,

Whom I love with an unbelievable propensity.