Card Games

Card Games

Emotions were a pack of cards I felt
The need to shuffle every day, to see
Which black of spades or clubs were dealt.
They stalked my path, refusing charity
Of those who saw my haze but not the cards,
Until my friends gave up and let me be.
Sometimes I palmed under my skin these shards,
A flourished mask which bled the more unseen
Dancing around attention, bowing scars.
Oh yes, there was a heart or diamond sheen
Of crimson sometimes stained with bleeding red,
A remnant of the black, my mind unclean.
It kept me dirty; never it misled
The certain voice that hearts are worth the dread.

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