Chance

Life's a game of chance,

It's a crap shoot from the start.

Snake eyes you win love,

Otherwise a string of broken hearts.

Who knows the games God plays,

Einstein said he didn't play dice.

But he didn't know true reality,

God's a card player who can fuck your life.

Lucky you if he picked an Ace,

But always beware of the joker.

It's a double stitched, stacked deck,

You'll never win a hand of poker.

They say don't stare too long at the sun,

Because you might become blind.

Or chance may make it spin around,

And make you eternally wise n kind.

Drugs n booze can blur out life,

Its chances unlucky card flop.

But forever seeking the next high,

Will leave you begging non stop.

Sipping from the Devils cup,

He whispers promises in the dark of night.

A quick escape from chances reality,

A high that steals your soul's light.

Coz chance is a wicked plan,

It determines your life and means.

Nature and nurture ignore chances role,

And could fill your life with empty dreams.

© 2025 - Robert Reid - All Rights Reserved

This won the Nov 2025 Writing Competition.

Addict...

Hello I'm Rob, and I'm an addict,

To be honest my addiction, is my habit.

Please close this page, if you ever liked me,

I don't want more ex friends, to think I'm mad as can be.

The truth is, I'm addicted to self abusing,

The truth is, I'm addicted to self amusing.

The truth is, I'm addicted to unhealthy and sickening care,

You can easily see the scars, on my limbs though my hair.

I'm addicted to being, sad and alone,

And I don't have the balls, to ever pick up a phone.

I'm addicted to major, self harm and abuse,

My life is a long road to hell, that was illegally introduced.

So basically I'm addicted, to not giving a fuck,

And I enjoy getting hit hard, when I'm having a ruck.

I like digging holes, deep in my own skin,

And I like cutting people up, like a can tin.

I'm addicted to always seeing the worst,

Coz the worst of the worst, is my own worse curse.

I can't help the flow, of my thin watery blood,

As the rain washes my body, lying unconscious in mud.

I'm addicted to nasty police, harassment and tugs,

They always ask if I'll hit them, when taking off cuffs.

I've had bare police cold, in my own hands,

The hands of a man, who didn't know the length of his own plans.

I'm addicted to not caring, about holes and cuts,

I'll end up alone, life’s clock ticked all out of all luck.

It's a shame there's no detox, that could ever fix me,

Take the drugs and meds away, and then you'll see.

That all my self harm, has probably been,

A way of keeping my family and friends, safe n clean.

Coz unfortunately the life I wanted, was not in store,

And I've walked dark roads, that nobody saw.

God just decided to deal me an early duff hand,

The sort in poker that only blags, bluffs n lies withstand.

I've tried, but there is no 12 step program for me,

And my only chip, has the Grim Reaper stamped for everyone to see.

© 2021 All Rights Reserved Robert Reid