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The Constant Loser

I pick up the cards
Silently and cautiously
I watch my hand.
My glance glides
Across the table
Butterflies rise
In the abdomen,
My eye twitches
But the face struggles
To not to betray
Any emotion.
I stare at life
On the other side
Of the table
Dealing the cards
With the finesse
Of a deft player.
I pick the card
With a swift stealth
And a blank card
Stares at me.
Once again,
Another evening
I loose the game
As life stands up
With a winner's smirk,
I hold my head
Down In shame,
And prepare
For another defeat
For another evening.

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