Poem and holdem

But what happens now?
Now that opportunity's been presented twice,
not just once, but TWICE,
and you saw it, spit on it,
you retreated and neglected it.
You've made your own bed
and now you must lay in it.
     ...only for a while.
           Cause your insides die, slowly, daily.
           The pain eats you up, weighs you down,
           it doesn't let you go until the source has been found.
And where will the source be found?
Isn't it already there, burning your soft, pale flesh?
Doesn't it surround you and show its face in the mornin glow?
Rise in the east, set in the west, the oldest tale true to the test?
     ...and yet
             you STILL won't acknowledge its presence.
             It's effect on you.
             The vitamins it's feeding you.
             The quality of life it brings you.
You'll turn a blind eye, pretend it's not true.
The fear of burning will cloud your view.

Guess you'll be coming back to life many times over to play it again.
Over and over again, until you get it right.