The Betting Bettors : A Freewrite Sport Poetry.

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The poverty striken Lord
Tattered and worn out
Wretched and bored
Homeless, weak, nothing anymore
Looked deep, deep inside the evening sun
Quietly stalking the night moon
Maybe there pass might change men's fortune
Maybe there gaze can change destiny
Alas, alas, I blew it all away
On the table of gambling
On the ground of betting
Thought Chelsea will win Arsenal
Came out different.......poorer.
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After each loss I take fresh air
Stretching myself further
Hoping for a better tomorrow
Things getting worse
Addiction setting in
Stealing money, doing dirty jobs
All to acquire all and bet
Get them all and predict
Predictions that never was
Games that never came to pass
Goals that never get fulfilled
Goaless draw for a straight win
Gone like the wind the betting funds
Grounded like a flat tire I am now.
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Wife's money gone
Children school fees unpaid
Divorce ringing a bell
Depressions setting in
No single win for two bad month
Spent , spent, spent all
No rewad came, no a single win.
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