Running Bad Makes Me Mad

The best of times I’ve ever had

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.