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.