It's How You Play the Game

It's How You Play the Game

Sounds like a gambling situation, and in a way it truly is.
You make as smart moves as you know what is,
And you believe you've learned when to hold,
And that word - dirty in some circles - when to fold.

You came here with a stacked deck, and you have no idea
Who you're dealing with, sometimes living in fear.
When you draw a good hand, you don't fully understand,
Except they seem to treat you okay in this new foreign land.

There's a lot more to winning than meets the eye.
You do not understand that either, till the day you die.
Most of your life, you're still wondering that big ol' "why?"
It may never become clear or tell you the how or why.

But you've still got to play, and it sure feels like a stacked deck.
No wonder most of us have that question mark on our face. What the heck...
We, at a young age, know not where we came from or how we got here,
And we must rely on parents who may or may not care. We dry our tears,

Then we're sent off every day to a new and unknown world
To try to learn to make some sense of this new and scary world.
Oh well, this poem could go on and on, pages and pages,
But we all understand about all our own pages.