Back To Square One

Back To Square One

I positioned my chips, and prayed for a win,

But numbers ignored came in time and again.

I'd sometimes bet evens, sometimes odds,

Then send prayers upstairs to the gambling Gods.

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But night after night, they failed to reply,

And with each losing bet: a mighty sigh.

With hindsight, it's clear, i was out of control,

Like a car thief whose chased in the porsche he stole.

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The first night i left over three hundred down,

With a forehead that sported the worlds biggest frown.

I'd been eighteen months clean, which aggrieved me the most,

Then along came that demon: my gambling ghost.

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When betting on black, reds came in,

Spin after spin after spin after spin.

"It's a mugs game this!" I'd often recite,

But guess who returned the following night?

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My gambling addiction is clearly innate,

A deep rooted problem within.

I gamble when life's in an unbalanced state,

When life's full of yang, but no yin.