Where’s Robin Hood When You Need Him?

Is it too much to hope
this brief pocket of happiness
is not something else
warped by a lense of hope?

My fear–my skeptism might be
the true poison to be blamed.
And I shudder to imagine jadedness
finally catching up to me.

Wasn’t it I who initially swore
that, for every card dealt,
I’d grin all the same–
my tell residing in a sour face?

But now my bluff has become
my own undoing.
The act becomes my reality
and my noose.

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Lay an Egg

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