House of Cards

If life is a game
And I, a player,
Wouldn’t I know the rules?
Wouldn’t the goal be defined?
This isn’t fun anymore.
This doesn’t feel fun anymore.
The chance and folly,
The stacked deck and two faced coins,
They’re laughing,
Laughing
At the house of cards I’ve built.
The wind rests
Every day and night,
But your breath is heavy
And acrid.

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Published by: cynicalwordsmith

I am, by no means, a professional writer. I have no dreams of becoming such. I just enjoy writing in my very sparse free time, both poetry and short stories. If you enjoy any of my works in particular, feel free to tell me. I always enjoy the feedback.

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