Spent my last dollar dropping coins in a slot.
Sick and tired of listening to all your lies.
So I'm gone, not giving it another shot.
Save your damn ole pleas, I packed up my goodbyes.
Sometimes I wonder why I ever left home.
So long ago it seems, since we both were young.
Stupor high on leather, steel, and shiny chrome.
"Send me my belongings", you'll hear when I've rung.
Stretching miles before me a long paved highway.
Soon some trucker will stop to give me a ride.
Surely he'll listen, a heart you did betray.
Sunset will find me knowing I could confide.
Spilling secrets openly to a stranger.
Somehow I'll manage the courage to forget.
Searching forevermore - ways out of danger.
So far away from home, so tired and upset.
Form: Hendecasyllabic
Has a syllable count of eleven syllables per line.
Written for a contest following a prompt.
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