Deuce and Seven off suit, all in at the river

I hate this person I am right now
This open wound
Seething pain
Raw and stretched thin
Reacting to any touch with Claws and fangs

I hate tears coming unbidden
Out of control and over the top
Like threads pulled free from stiches
Spilling out every hurt

I hate this semblance of ok
This cold regard that slips in
This quavering uncertain voice
Sobbing and breaking
Caught between strength and weakness
With no hope

Not even a sliver of future
Turn of the dice
Roll of the wheel
Spin of the cards
The Tower
The Tower
The Tower

Once forgotten
The old wounds
Knife sharp

Treading over familiar ground
Roads carved in blood