Yes, I'm back! I won't even TRY to apologize for how long I've been away from School's finally over, though. I'm having trouble with the next chapter of You Know Who, Etc., but expect either an update on that or expect me to just abandon it.
I realize that this poem might require some explanation. Mat always wins at gambling. His luck has saved him countless times when he could have died. Yet, his luck only goes so far; it has not brought him happiness, peace, or anything besides wealth and petty little things.
I realize that this doesn't have a real rhyme scheme. Sorry about that—I wrote this with the intention of writing a melody for it, and didn't find a rhyme scheme necessary. So, please just disregard that.
Roll the Dice
Roll the dice
Once, twice, thrice
And the result is always the same.
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These dice are weighted;
Life's overrated!
What, bound to the brink of death?
-
They say I'm lucky—
But how?
So many times I could have died
Yet I always land on a ledge
On a sheer cliff's side
Half-dead and wishing I were.
-
Luck—what's luck?
A penny, a trinket?
A petty little bet?
And gambling doesn't allow giving up.
-
Roll a five, roll an eight;
Doesn't change anything.
The dice spin at the last minute
In a spiteful twist of fate.
Renewed pain makes my ears ring.
-
Roll a three, roll a ten.
I'm back where I started again.
I have a migraine
And my heart's in pain.
-
Destiny desires
To quench my soul's fires
And leave rain-drenched, fate-quenched coals.
-
This sad rhythm lulls
And a knife blade dulls
But it can still slay hope.
-
Roll the dice,
Once, twice, thrice,
But my destiny remains unchanged.