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by Norman
Rated: 18+ · Poetry · Dark · #2222111
He gambled all his wealth away
He sat behind his regal desk
surveying his domain.
His stomach ached with bile and grief;
his head was filled with pain.
Through his front window he could spy
what little did remain.
He’d squandered all his family wealth.
His name had left a stain.

Where once there was a vast estate,
all that one man could need,
now all that’s left had gone to waste;
on that he did concede.
The lush green lawns that once were there
had now all gone to seed,
with dandelions among the clumps
of choking vines and weed.

The house inside was cold and worn
with dust balls on the floor.
The curtains fell in tattered rags;
a hinge hung from the door.
And he himself was in bad shape.
He ached right to his core.
His bank account was in the red.
In fact, he was quite poor

He used to be a man of means.
How could he fall so low?
What would he do now with his life?
Where could a failure go?
He’d gambled all his wealth away.
That was his tale of woe.
He put the pistol to his head
… that’s all you need to know.

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