We are open wounds with closed minds
And no one has to know what hurts inside
But why would we care anyways.
Just like why would we care if someone won the lottery
Or saved a life
Or fell in love
and the stranger next to me can win or lose
and its none of my concern.
The only concern I have is numbers under 21
And the somebody with the cards
And an ace of spades and a black jack.

I am only doing my best.
But what is my best?
What is my fault?
Sometimes I don’t have a club
and sometimes I don’t have a heart
and sometimes I don’t have an eight
but that doesn’t mean you can call me crazy


I don’t think.


This is a different kind of game
And there isn’t a boneyard to choose from
But sometimes I feel so alone inside I think maybe
all the advice Im hearing is just the bones rattling with defeat
and any second now they will shatter
like the memories we forgot to keep.

I hope that my luck hasn’t run out
Now that Ive lost all of the jokers
But maybe theres still a little crazy left inside me
Because sometimes when I play solitaire
I think there is someone else there.
But when I look up its only me and the deck
So I shuffle and hope
But most of the time
I don’t win.

So give me chess
Or dominos
Or dice
But its all the same.
We have chance
And luck
And statistics that tell us don’t do this and don’t do that
Like don’t eat too much meat
And get 8 hours of sleep
But even though I try
I still don’t get enough protein
And I don’t stretch after I run
And I cant cut the sugar
And I stare at the screen to long

And I tell mountains of lies.

The point is I’m tired of this game.
I am tired of losing
Against
Me.

Tired of making my own rules.
And breaking my own rules.

And beating myself up for the hands we are dealt
And the bets that we make
And the money we lose.

But Im learning.

Learning sometimes you get lucky
And sometimes you don’t
And we all get our share of luck and unluck.
Or we can hope so.


As a way of believing life is fair.