>>12397170 (OP)
Death on the Lottery Day
They found him still holding
the ticket in hand,
numbers smudged with sweat,
face calm as sand.
The news broke at dawn—
He'd struck it all rich,
but his breath had fled
before the first pitch.
The town gathered hush
in the smoke of delight,
while his body lay stiff
in television light.
They say he had plans:
a boat, a trip,
a garden,
a kiss,
a life not so stripped.
But luck is a trickster,
a jester, a flame—
it dances, then disappears,
never signing its name.
Now the numbers are drawn,
and the world claps in cheer,
while one chair stays empty—
the winner not here.
