Game Of Luck Poem by Bree Z Love

Wrapped up in the card game.
Hands tight with the next Russian Roulette; chained.
by Luck, high in the cloud.
Chasing it's undefined shape; you've never found.
Still chasing and looking things over.
You missed that four-leaf clover.
Flip it over.
Pulling slightly the trigger.
Weed through the pasture.
You unlucky fool.
Trying to reinvent the principled school.
Of reasoning.
You are believing,
Worship of ceremonies
and pseudo-promises.
Roll the dice,
for the sacrifice;
of your head on a platter
and your mind in a scatter.
For a dream?
That you hope to profit by schemes
and chances; are
you'll still never go far.