Chart-burned retinas
stare into a backlit screen
while candlesticks open and close
like a nervous system failure

Good news becomes bad
bad becomes gospel
and somewhere beneath the caffeine
his heartbeat mimics the ticker

The institutions love this part
the insomnia
the trembling hands
the overtrading disguised as hope

But tonight
the wise trader does something rare

He powers off the terminal
becomes the soldier who abandons the battlefield
tonight,
he is the priest who lets the candles die unwatched

Not every victory
comes from another trade

Sometimes survival
is walking away
before the market consumes
what little peace remains