Lifes A Losing Mans Game Poem by Daniel Bowyer

Ambassador I plead that although you wish me dead
(And rightly so)
That I be aloud to live you see, I would only come back to haunt you
And its better this way

Laughed and beemed at my poposal
Then ordered I be carried away to my pending death
Me, Being, Me winked at the ambassador
And gave him a parting gift, which he wiped from him eye

I'll kill you myself you rat
My smile only widened, It seems the old man was not fond of my wit
And althought my body was beaten my spirit was not
But I could see that my idominable soul had worn my foes weak

So i'm on the block and I try to think of one last brave action
To break free and prevail for the good, The hero that I am and all
But its too late for that boldness
I know now I am going to perish
See the blade about my neck and can feel it slice the skin and sever my spine
But I am happy to go, Knowing that I have touched lives
Loved and Recieved love
And although I was born to lose,
I never gave up