On nights like these
I lie awake
And I can feel the whole world shake
With Might-Have-Been and
And what if I had
Been the one?
And while I wait for sleep to come
I know
That I would have and
Will always
Choose just the same
And lose at any other game
(For what is luck but superstition?
And superstition, as I like to say,
Brings rotten luck. I am
too stubborn
for God’s mercy.)
Would you
Build a house of cards
With me? Or a castle
In the sand. Who cares
If it washes away? Everything
Washes away,
Glittering while wet.