The Broadcast Betrayal

The Broadcast Betrayal

They whisper fortune through the air, a promise spun—a golden snare. The dice will roll, the cards will fall, but few shall rise, and most lose all.

The voices hum through radio waves, enticing dreams, enslaving slaves. “Bet your fate, a winner’s chance!” Yet pockets bleed in reckless dance.

They sell illusions, thin as mist, with wealth and luck upon their list. The youth, the weak, the hopeful prey, lured to darkness led astray.

But deeper still, beyond the light, a home falls silent through the night. A father lost to empty bets, a mother drowning in regrets.

The table bare, the cupboards dry, as children watch their futures die. Tuition gone, the rent unpaid, a shattered trust, a love betrayed.

And in the shadows, torn apart, a gambler speaks with aching heart: "I thought the next would turn the tide, but every loss cut deep inside.

I chased the dream, I fed the lie, until I drained my soul bone-dry. The house was cold, the lights went dim, my world reduced to luck’s cruel whim.

They sold me hope, they gave me flame, but all I won was guilt and shame. Now debts are high, regrets run deep— no prayers remain, no peace to keep."

But who will warn, who speaks the truth, when stations air deceit to youth? Not all that glitters fills the hand— most stumble deep in sinking sand.

So silence the fraud, break free today, let wisdom be the light, the way. No fortune hides in reckless games— just loss, regret, and stolen names.