SHUFFLE

I wear my heart on my sleeve; maybe that is the reason I bleed; perhaps that is why your hunger I feed. I need to move more quietly in the night's silence, for every thought and emotion does not always need to be spoken, I need to stay one step ahead, or by the early morning hours, I will surely be dead and broken.

I need to shuffle those damn cards, hold my hand close to my chest, and learn to bluff like the rest. Too many enemies call themselves family and friends. My movements will now show them the being to the end.

My emotions are known; like a puppet, they know how to pull my strings. No longer do I shuffle my cards and wait to see what this hand that I will hold close to my chest brings