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๐‹๐š๐ฌ๐ญ ๐ƒ๐š๐ฒ

Stunned silence as begins the final fall.
It is the last day of the fatal crash.
The players huddle, backs against the wall.
Their energy is spent; theyโ€™re out of cash;
Yet all theyโ€™ve bought is now but smoking ash.
They watch the screens light up; each shakes his head.
The plunging numbers redden like a rash.
They stare, incredulous, their eyes like lead.
Their tongues are stilled and not a word is said,
But each is thinking โ€” how can this be so?
Is this the final rattle? Is it dead?
Then comes another sickening body-blow.
No doubt the worst that some have ever seen;
Tomorrow, slow, will swell a tide of green.

โ€” D.N. Oโ€™Brien