Sad Prospect
A fortunate shot resulted in a goal,
As if it were a lucky rabbit's foot you possess,
People lose control,
A million or two more or less,
a fantasy,
sold to the underlings, promoted
to false hope,
chalk up to realitie's willing
ability to behold,
farther away pretends another sad prospect,
hold my face up but even white knights kneel,
bended not broke still seeping in I'm breathing.


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