It's the enervated hold
Which is the first to fold
A hand of jokers
And deuces
Sold to you as gold

One tries to will it true
This hand of gold anew
The power of will
Tides one through
Yet doubts unspoken grew

And grows the unsure strong
Leaps and bounds along
But one keeps it down
Looks away
Being strong is not to long

One does oft wonder though
How one got to be so
When the truth escapes
Through tiny holes
While Joker lies aglow

So one hopes that one can hold
This designated mould
Truth be dammed
Just look away
One's right is not to fold