• The night was full of darkness surrounding what innocence remained
    Her face was the only thing on his mined
    A beauty that deserved better then cards she was dealt

    In the game of life he was the dealer
    He was judgment to the people who did wrong to the innocent
    But he had lost himself

    He had walked down the path of power, turning bindles to the signs flashing in his face
    He should have died that night, but fate was funny that way
    He had beaten death only to become him

    He stared blankly at his reflection
    As he saw an image of a grotesque figure gazing back at him
    A salty tear rolled down his swelling skin
    A trail of blood followed not far behind

    He couldn’t stand to see his face in the glass anymore
    He limped away from the mirror and towards the backdoor
    He sighed as he stumbled through the open door, spilling what remanned of the hard liquor
    A frigid wind slapped his face and carried a tattered playing card into the night
    He knew he couldn’t be a hero anymore because he couldn’t even save himself

    He walked for a time that seamed like forever in the mined of the unstable
    Her grave was marked next to the other worriers he had tossed to that mad man
    He called their names and waited for a response
    There was nothing

    There was only the sound of cold metal clashing with the escape of a broken man
    Then it was silent
    He had fallen