Chances Are (poetry)

We’ve taken a wrong turn — it seems
we’re up some godless creek
without a paddle and the boat
has sprung a fatal leak

The drowning man grabs any straw
while priests say fervent prayers
most doubt the future’s dotted line
so randomly it tears

No guarantee proves worth its print
nor promise worth the breath
the one thing we can bank on when
push comes to shove is death

But let’s not crack beneath life’s strain
keep stiff that upper lip
pretend it’s bound to turn out right
and we’ll survive this trip

So fingers crossed — stay calm and cool
cling stubborn to the side
they swore that help is on its way ...
but chances are they lied