Ante

Always on the outside,
Somewhere on the end.
Never in the outline,
Got nowhere to begin.
Simply live by breathing,
Barely taking the next step.
Little gained by thieving,
Hoping we'll forget.
So lost inside the meltdown
I've forgotten how to live.
Never ending go'round
With nothing left to give.
Lies paint them to be prophets,
Truth has called them doomed;
Setting of the on-set
Beneath the silent room.
Keeping from the slaughter
The children of deceit.
His cold and broken daughter
Laughing at the feat.
We turn our tricks to mar them
And in the slender web
The smallest error's margin
Abandons them for dead.
This knife that strikes is folly
But one I've carried long
And if I judge you wrongly
The curse's hold prolong.
Waking while they're sleeping
To be dreaming when they wake;
Finding something worth believing
Without a name to stake.
The ante is their conscious,
The cost that makes us fools.
Not seeing that we lost us
In our struggle not to lose.

©2012, MLowe. All Rights Reserved.