Just when does jumping from Bed to Bed often from frying pan to fire stop.

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Like a first time thief,
First time a female showed attention
I was too scared to go through with it
But a crook gets better with practise
Bag of broken hearts
Improved swagger
Head down no longer
Heavy load, crippled walk, Heads up but blind
 I lost my purpose and direction

Everyone was at it
The table full of veteran players
So I joined
But the house always wins right?
It takes more than it gives back
I was being robbed
I had little left and a friend whispered
Stop Gambling
I listened and walked out

My jackpot winning was waiting outside
Just need to pick it up
The players inside called out
What makes you think?
“There isn’t a bigger winning at the Table”
My relationship with this roulette had to stop
A player’s got to quit
While still ahead

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Comments (1)
  • Darla Smith on Feb 19, 2009

    Very nice poem.

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