Stubborn Poem by April Michelle

You know that one.
The one who would never drink that or hit that,
the one when faced with the trouble of it all, often fell flat.
Her. The one who seems less judgmental of the common crowd, though always equipped with a face that never swayed for days.
But those nights. Always the nights.
She was too afraid of getting caught in the clouds. Her.
Losing that touch she fell to their ways. Fell to forget so much about so less.
But let it be known, it was just in her luck. The one that had no luck.

© 2010 April Michelle