There was once a very sick man,
Who lived all alone in his den.
All he ever wanted in his life,
Was to stack his cards up high.

A week was left in his numbered days,
When he started his card-stacking foray.
Stack and stack he did,
Through the little flops and flips.

Noon the third day, he hit the third last tier.
You could almost see in his eyes, that hidden tear.
After three and a half days he's almost finished.
So certain that his dream will be accomplished.

But just as he was placing the next two cards,
A sudden jerk coursed through his hands real hard.
Time slowed down momentarily,
"My old injury," the sick man thought silently.

In a loud cacophony of sick crashing sounds,
The cards tumbled all the way down.
Numb and shocked the sick man looked,
Picking up the cards as he violently shook.

"Am I never meant to have my happiness,"
"With these maimed arms of sadness?"
"I was just so close to the top,"
"Guess it is time for me to stop."

Three days more till the time he dies,
In the shambles of cards he sighs.
Despair, hate, anger, betrayal and self pity, is how it ends.
He will never smile again, as long as he has those hands.