Things have to get better,
No matter the time,
No matter the place.
If I give you a word,
You'll have to rhyme,
If you are to save face.

Not certain about the words,
That I wrote.
Commit them to memory,
Remember by rote.

A mess of words,
That are to be,
A way for me to
Maintain my sanity.
A futile attempt,
Don't you see.

I'm not getting better
And soon I'll be,
An example to share,
For sake of history.

I hurt you today.
I know not why.
It wasn't my intent,
bringing a tear to your eye.
I expected better of me
in taking care of you,
as you did for me.

The words that came before,
are lying useless, on the floor.
Words, bouncing within my head,
for practical purposes, now are dead.
It's the price, one has to pay,
when words, treated with such dismay.
Too late the key, too late the lock,
I do believe, I have Writers block.

Into the darkness, I'll go with thee.
Hold my hand and you will see.
I will be with you for eternity.