Gamble around the table,
heed less about the mouths to feed,
Make alcohol your father;
Vodka,my last name that would be.
Heads fallen onto the table,
with moon rise each fate meets,
a nicer fate they hope for tomorrow,
never wiser to bet it seems.
families starve in hunger,
the candle wasters doth not care.
they live life for the moment.
Idle.So past repair.
Malsha Walgamage©
27 November 2010
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