Cards.

Twenty four, three too many for the perfect hand in life's biased game of Blackjack, but just enough to strike back with a well memorized massive attack. I compromised too much of myself to lose it all in one round of Russian roulette, paid the cost to be the best, so return my ante, and retain your bets. I will be victorious, I was born to win, effortlessly notorious, it kills my many critics to encounter my resilience. I am no longer the pawn that kept getting knocked down, but I am the king who gets stronger with each round. You were the black queen; wickedness run rampant through your veins, I was always two steps ahead, immune to your endless games. Attention deficit and as blind as the jaded one-eyed Jack, you may have made Jill take a spill, but I am much smarter than that. You said you would go straight and never stray again but you lied, so this royal flushed you away and watched our future die. I have always been adept at doing too much to fast, similarly, we were over in a blink, it was never meant to last. I was the jack of all trades to your less than ace of spades love, there are no more hearts left to play, now that push has turned to shove. Without any warning, you turned this into a childish game of War, as I stole most of your poker chips, then left you as worthless as a wiley whore. Grow a pair of clubs, before you try again with love, all your cards have now been dealt, continue to play the victim, and watch your potential melt. Your jilted joker and its jest were not enough to save the rest. No longer your dealer, you've been granted your final hand, no cause for celebration, or reason for reprimand. For the last time, I denied your dismaying demands, as disbelief deceived your heart, you were forced to say goodbye to my handstands.