He sat, checking his hand.
The numbers and colors,
Suddenly bled, and ran.
Mind confused, a whirling mess.
The Gambler takes his
Final test.
He folds his fan of cards, into
A small pile.
Then,shoves it away,
With a dignified smile.
His eyes glance, once to the left, then the right.
He feels the night has gone.
He senses the death card,has just been drawn.
He gently caresses his remaining chips.
Time to call it a night.
He broke even this time,
Walking away, wins him half
Of his fight.
Have no doubt, we’ll find him here, again, and again.
Hiding from his loneliness,
Running from his demons,
That plague his every night