Running Bad Makes Me Mad
Are always followed by running bad;
’tis the curse of the random flop
To see equity so good suddenly drop.
Out of position they love to call
With hopes and prayers and mostly gall;
Yet the donkeys get the last laugh
Cutting my chip stack in half.
Continuation bets? They all fail
Silently I suffer and wail;
And wait for the pendulum to swing
To recover from this awful sting.
Running bad, it makes me sad
No that’s not it, more like mad;
But must persevere and have more grit
Can I take much more of this shit?
There goes another buy-in
And it feels like I’m dyin’;
Not long ago running so good
Beating up the whole neighborhood.
When will I get another chance
To celebrate and dance?
Feeling like a shell of my former self
Looking for wisdom on the bookshelf.
Uh-oh, here we go again
I flop a big draw, villain flops gin;
The river card fills my flush
And gives him quads! Now hush.
Wrenching emotional pain
In every crevice makes its gain;
Stop I say, don’t turn me into a poet!
I’m not very good and now you know it.