Island
I made an island, for myself
in awe they looked on
in friendly handshakes, a thorn
from a mask that dealt the cards
so called friends adorned
limp hands weakly shaken
cold players close to me
the deck is thinned, I see through them
offering words according to a plan
marked with a gift of death
that is invisible
now the cards play out
the devil takes his turn
friendly enemies falling foul
throw away a life or deuce
unfolding onto fields forlorn
where flowers were once born
now jokers and kings reside and battle torn
gambling on death's door
so they care not who wins
invitation only the way in
no stone to make a marker
just peace and sin
