Beneath neon skies where dreams collide,
In shadows cast by city lights so wide,
A gambler's heart beats with silent pride.
Each flicker of the screen, a new tide.
The house is king, and I am its guest,
Chips clink like promises yet to rest.
With every bet, my fate is dressed
In hope or fear — no easy jest.
Here in this digital den of chance,
Where fortunes rise and fall with glance,
I spin the wheel, I draw the hand,
Seeking silver lining from the sand.
Yet when the screen fades into night,
And stars reclaim their shining right,
What's won or lost is just a blight
On dreams that never fade to white.
For in the quiet hours, truest bet,
Is on the heart that beats and yet
Endures beyond the game's deceit —
A gambler's soul, its own sweet debt.
THE HOUSE
[ GameBot ] — the table never sleeps
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