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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
A short poem about the bizarre sense of humour life has.

Submitted: November 22, 2011

A A A | A A A

Submitted: November 22, 2011



A hint of laughter in her eyes

A smile upon her face

A red cord wrapped around her hand;

The Joker comes to play.


She spins the cord

And ties it thrice;

A life dependent on the dice

Hidden in her sleeve.


Green to black, the Joker turns

Her eyes upon your soul.

And slowly, inch by inch

The cord starts to unroll.


Smiling, snarling, caught between

The cord begins to fray.

Tattered strands of crimson blood

Drift from pale white claws.


A life within, a life without

Never lived and seldom breathed,

And always had a doubt;

That what was real was just a lie

And we were only born to die.


Once more the cord wraps around,

Pale white fingers gently curled.

Black to green, the die is cast,

The Joker comes to play.

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