As is typical of the foolish damned, I savvy myself of the bettin' clan. Struggle as I might, and this struggle is true, I find my life empty without winnings undue.
I gamble that, & a tad bit of this. Hell I'll gamble most anything on most any lists. My favorite dish?
THIS!
The idea leading the inkflow. Pens of 'qwert' brought to life:paperless paperback!
"Double down, never fold!" I screech to call every word, every time, with every last dime and dollar.
If I won: I successfully supported each sentence as its possible 'best' by darting keys down with passion, sharing the truth from my chest. I did all I could, revisions, regal layouts, much much more! I left every weak structure half starved on the floor. But this never seems the case, and my work all seems a waste..
If I lost: I boil over with insults stable minds couldn't dream at their best. Tearing tears off my face to hide my moist and weak nature, I seek out a new mirror (or at least new to me), although I may shorten brief moments to remain 'looking glass healthy'.
AHA!
Here I must stare!
Ugly, compulsive, without discipline and quite frankly, quite odd. Disgustingly plain is the slacker, lacking substance when lacking facade.
I struggle to stare, my reflection a mess.
Balloons perpetually bubbling from each hole in my skull, a result of the rage now bathing my soul. I chose my words wisely, I trusted, I chose well! I loved the diction so dearly, I thought my candor so swell! So why have I busted and been led to hell?
I'm not sure I can stare..
I find with sharp pain of the wrist escalation. A murder! Bloodied fist retracts while silver chips shatter further.
Bruised, broken, bullied, and bastardized by best-interest-bound being called "I."
It stares.
Swollen, sordid, sullen, the cracked reflections gaze pierces stone, my soft features are butter.
To scream eye to eye, my pretty, all the better.
"Why speak on a subject if you lack resolution? Why waver with whimper, '...all in...', if you left the chance of a lose, hun?!"
Aka holy long url omg.