Red Herring

A sense of excitement ripples and rises, as my emotion rides high and my misery capsizes.
I gaze up and praise, and start to count down the days – 280 in all – as my pace begins to quicken and I feel like a fool.

And then I’m not, my chance has fired and shot, and it begins again, the return of an unwelcome friend.

Because it doesn’t matter how many tickets I buy, how many desperate tears I cry, I can’t seem to get hold of that prize,
The odds aren’t in my favour, the house never lies.
I eye up the shiny ribbon and long to claim it as my own, a gift wrapped in terry towels, made from our own flesh and bone.