by Ebony

Bitterness; he's stopped
believing in good luck.
Never was such a thing,
never will be.

Push yourself a little harder.

Smirking; he doesn't care
or even know why anymore,
only that he won't - he can't stop.
Not until he's won.

(And then,
will there be anything left
for him to live for?)

Not until satisfaction
(sweet; like European chocolate)
touches his lips, and
defeat is admitted; until
he earns it, and it is his.
All his.

Only then...

Yes, he learned a long time ago
that luck means nothing at all.