Gamble With The Fates Poem by Jennifer English

A soul shred into tiny pieces,
but souls cannot be seen,
only damage to physical things.

The tiny cuts are so fine, so hard to see,
like fine lines on blankets of silk,
her wrists are a map to a heaven.

The pain slices through her heart,
pain of another disloyal friend,
the Fates are playing with this young soul.

The reaper is by her side,
watching her weep at falure at a new start,
a month had past since her last gamble.

Maybe she will be rescued...
No, the Fates have decided,
they like this game.