No More Bets

 No More Bets

i walked

into the casino

with $300.

—

red.

—

one spin.

one bounce.

one break.

—

the ball

landed black.

—

my chest

dropped.

—

i sat there

staring

at the table.

—

$300.

gone.

—

i kind’ve

wanted to cry.

—

i’ve watched

thousands

leave my account

before.

—

three grand

to insurance.

—

debt.

—

bills.

—

life.

—

those losses

always had

a destination.

—

this one

didn’t.

—

i’m pushing

pallets

through the night.

—

my back

hurts.

my hands

ache.

—

another paycheck.

another payment.

another two weeks.

—

money comes in.

money goes out.

nothing

ever stays.

—

my mind

already lives

inside

the next chapter.

—

books.

school.

business.

a life

that finally

has room

to move.

—

my reality

still clocks in

for the night shift.

—

my ambition

keeps sprinting.

—

my cash flow

keeps crawling.

—

i’ve been

betting

on shortcuts.

—

no more bets.

—

all this shit

was borrowed hope.

—

i better

my own odds.

—

every loss

keeps pointing

me back

to the long game.

— Mr. Mak

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