Dead Man’s Hand

“You can be a king or a street sweeper, but everybody dances with the Grim Reaper…”

— the final words of an unknown death row inmate

Gather 'round, my friends, and hear
The tale of a man who knew no fear:
A gambler, a thief, whose end was nigh,
Stabbed in the back and left to die.

As he lay bleeding, he proposed a game
Of poker (with Death), for his soul to claim.
Death, amused by the dying man's plea,
Accepted the offer with sinister glee.

The dying man played with skillful graces-
His winning hand? Black eights and aces,
But Death was unfazed, and calmly stood
As the man believed that he'd won for good

But alas, his wounds were too deep, too severe
And Death, the true winner, was drawing near
As the man took one final, painful breath,
He finally realized he'd never beat Death.

Dear friends, the moral of the story is clear:
In the end, Death will take all you hold dear.
No matter how hard we may try to flee,
Death is inevitable, for you and for me.