A Rhyme Poem by B.A. Phillips

Breaking down in my chair
What's left except to stare
At a life that once look so filled
Now looks unwilled
Foreign thoughts taking me by the hand
All the way to the desert land
Out of water and out of hope
Dragging feet; head down; beginning to mope
I've had my fill of this life
Just tracing my hand with the knife
Waiting to make that awful mistake
But I'll stop for nothing but your sake
And my head still hurts from the beating
My ears are still ringing from the screaming
What's left of me to spare the people
I simply don't know if I'm even able
To keep up with all the stories and lies
Told to a thousand ears and shown to a thousand eyes
I made a mistake coming here today
Because I don't ever think I'll live down the day
I left her sanding in the driveway
Because we couldn't see anything our way
What do you expect from a complete mess
I'm still left with no words to really express
All the wasted minutes and all the time
That was worth less than a dime
And I wouldn't trade for another rhyme