Image by Med Ahabchane from Pixabay 

When there's nothing in your cards
And your defeat resounds - when
The edges prick a little harder with
Each movement of your arm.
When the night is spent in dreaming
Of escaping - and you're tethered to
Another day to see the sun.
I'm a pessimist at heart because
I've seen it - they will tear your soul
To shreds for silver coins. You will
Cry out to your father in a garden
And hear silence in response when
You awake. This is all that will consume
Your living days.
No surprises, we are stuck with carbon
Lungs and coal for veins. Our stoic faces
Stained with all we failed to do. Giving up
Feels like another day we wasted - going
On is just a dream we have delayed.
That is all I have to say, it won't defend me -
But at least these words will carry silent pleas.

.    .    .