All of our cards are on this rotting table

they are soaked in our blood

but we play them anyway.

A sick game,

you like to play.

A bad bet,

as you like to say.

My cards are turned right side up

everyone can see my hand

except me.

A misplaced trust,

I had given you.

A poor chance,

the cards I drew.

We play for the big prize,

you say it's fair chance

that you won the bet on me.



Yet we both know I did not know the rules of the game.