Told by Royce Clayton/The Torn Prince
Breaking Point
As I sit here,
In this square glass jail,
I think of all that has made me,
As tough as a nail.
When I was living,
Baseball was my game,
It was my life,
My claim to fame.
I remember the reason I'm here,
It was that race,
That drag race,
The one that totaled my car and face.
It was that race,
The glory that I crave,
The glory of winning,
That sent me to my grave.
I remember it well,
The race and my car,
My poor baby,
We didn't make it far.
It was my brakes,
They were cut,
We flipped over,
It was awful, the pain in my gut.
I was dragged,
I was screaming,
My right side getting torn,
Now it seems like I was dreaming.
I lay there for the longest time,
My life slipping away,
When I awoke I realized,
I am here to stay.
Years passed, the old man came,
They snatched me and here I am,
Waiting until,
The shit hits the fan.
I'm waiting, waiting to be released,
Waiting for people to bash,
With my precious bat,
Ready for skulls to smash.
As I sit here on my car,
Smoking a joint,
I'm waiting and I'm reaching,
My breaking point.
Another 'made-in-Geography-class-cause-I-was-bored' poems.