Prologue | Lotto
Lotto [Poetry Collection]And you roll it - a die
Of many sharp colours; nine sides, inexplicit,
Each shade of a spectrum.
Of many sharp colours; nine sides, inexplicit,
Each shade of a spectrum.
Count them with me, cast your
Hand in the fray. Hope to grasp more
Than the lotto allows.
Hand in the fray. Hope to grasp more
Than the lotto allows.
One is a beauty,
Two is a curse,
Three is the crowd no sin could endorse.
Four casts a shadow,
Five casts a shout,
Six pulls our bodies from words borne of doubt.
Seven breeds kindness and
Eight breeds us hate, but
Nine gifts us love, contentment and fate.
Lower your hand and feel through the Lotto.
Search by the bodies, pick up
And swallow.
Search by the bodies, pick up
And swallow.
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