Scuttling
I see the family on the table
their crowns speak royalty
as my hand reads numbers
that stand without pair.
I look around the table
with bets flying around
all based on the back designs
of every piece of paper
and the face on each player.
I know that even when
you’re dealt a bad hand
you keep your cards high,
and your head higher
because you’re the only one
that knows that ship is sinking
when they all look afloat.
This poem is about:
Our world