The hand

The hand

A Poem by Nearstayy

He played the hand he'd been dealt, in hopes his tortured mental health would bring him ample wealth,
all the anger he'd dispelled, all the "f**k you's" he hadn't yelled, were held back and channeled, so when he finally let his hate escape, it lit a fire so great, that his past was incinerated, his pain eviscerated.

© 2016 Nearstayy


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Added on October 31, 2016
Last Updated on October 31, 2016