Lucky

This is a poem I wrote using standard cliches. It was super fun to play with.

They said she was lucky like a four leaf clover
Because she knew how to talk the talk
And seemed to walk the walk
But they didn’t realize a chain is only as strong as its weakest link
That she was far from a diamond in the rough, but rather
A drop in the bucket with a fate worse than death
Her Achilles heel, that beauty is in the eye of the beholder
When her eyes were as blind as a bat’s
Her silence spoke volumes
If anyone would have stopped, looked, and listened
But no one reads between the lines when something is picture perfect
Even though everyone says beauty is only skin deep
And so she was an army of one
Locked in an uphill battle with the demons inside
Her bridges were burned, leaving her
Caught between a rock and a hard place
She was ready to rest her weary bones
The fight had gone out of her eyes
In this quiet before the storm, one could see
The devil in the details
For eyes are windows to the soul
But out of sight, out of mind
Realization came too late, when already
She was going, going…gone.