The lottery fairy is such a tease
beware enticements—she makes them with ease.
She tickles the amygdala within your brain
persuading to pleasure—not to pain.
It’s okay to flirt but not to linger
as she beckons with a seductive finger.
A flutter is all right—but stop at addiction.
Automatic gambling brings such friction.
You think you’re in a game of chance
but the lottery fairy controls the dance.
Is the thrill you seek in placing the bet,
or in winning the prize that you might get?
The addict’s dominant word is—more.
A need that drives the game—for sure.
There is no pleasure—just compulsion.
You must change the want—to revulsion.
Electrochemical stimuli excite cells in the brain.
“It’s not the winning”—addicted gamblers explain.
They don’t think of losing—it doesn’t exist.
By the lottery fairy’s lips they’ve been kissed.
Is it as simple as the dopamine,
or is addiction a libertine?
A biological thrill—the jolt and the rush,
a player’s high—or poker’s royal flush?
An obsession with betting is a manifestation
of the lottery fairy’s preoccupation.
She has the equipment to bait the trap,
and catch the victim with a quick snap.
This isn’t a question of win or lose
but gratification in what you choose.
And you will never be satisfied,
because the fairy has got you supplied.
She flashes her eyes and pouts her lips.
She shakes her bottom and wriggles her hips.
She uses pornographic paraphernalia
and is privy to the mind’s penetralia.
A huge jackpot—the winner takes all
by guessing the numbers where the ball will fall,
or playing a card game or casino machines,
or spinning a wheel to fulfill all dreams.
For the addict any old game will do.
“Let it all ride”—is not a taboo.
When the game says—major rollover—
it doesn’t mean sex in a field of clover.
The bigger the prize—the bigger the bet,
mortgage the house for all you can get.
And how does the addict face a loss?
By looking for another coin to toss.
And what does the lottery fairy do?
She seeks more victims—can she tempt you?
The lottery fairy in her dress of frills
anticipates the gambler’s love of thrills.
Every game that she then makes
will be playing for higher and higher stakes.
She waves a silver wand of stardust
to make the players say—they must.
Aware that deep within the brain
old habits die hard—that is plain.
Once the dendrites have relayed the thrill
they have left the tracks of a chemical spill.
And this is the stimulus that causes a yearn,
which is very difficult for the brain to unlearn.
Within the cells the stardust will fall
as the fairy prepares for the Gamblers’ Ball.
Games and gambling, a bet and a stake,
the fairy flutters—a wager to make.
She knows that the chemical thrill of the risk
enables her to find the pockets to frisk.
She sings for more—at the very least
and dazzles her way through the addict’s feast.
How can you rescue the addict from their brain?
Handcuff the fairy—and try to un-train.
Divert those worn pathways that seek to enjoy
distract and disarm—and use any ploy.
Try to distract from that trance-like state.
Destroy the zone wherein they wait.
Bring them back to reality.
Convince them that is where they should be.
Give in to addiction—if you so please—
but know that it leads to death and disease.
Beware of playing that game of chance.
The fairy persuades you it is a romance.
This is no attraction—or euphorial love,
but a gratification—were touch turns to shove.
She is aware that, if the wheel takes a spin,
her entrapment device has then pulled you in.
You rarely hear the fairy speak,
except to whisper—”It’s a winning streak.”
If she directs it straight to you,
she may persuade you—luck is due.
She doesn’t pretend to have any soul.
She goads you to think you are on a roll.
No conscience, no guilt—is this the fairy’s motto,
as she tempts you to play more games of lotto.
If you cannot change the way you behave
the lottery fairy will dance on your grave.