In shadows cast by neon glow, Where dreams of fortune ebb and flow, The gambler's hand, a fateful roll, With hope to fill an aching soul. Coins clink and fall on velvet green, A reckless dance of might-have-been, Yet whispers of a bitter cost, For dreams are sold and futures lost. Behind each bet, a silent plea, For luck to change their destiny. But in the spin, life's threads unwind, And leave but echoes left behind. Oh, heed the siren's call in vain, Beware the snare of fleeting gain, For in the house where shadows dwell, The grip of fate weaves silent hell. So pause, and see with clearer sight, The wager's plight, a fleeting light. True wealth's not found in cards or dice, But in a life of deeper ties.