My Last Bad Quarter Of An Hour Poem by ademola oluwabusayo

i could take to pay the road

i rob peter to pay paul

between the rock and a hard plate

a rod of pickle

i make a rod for my own back

selling someone down the rivers

my bad quarter of an hour

rome was not build in a day

are in a smoke filled room

i give people enough rope

a rough passage of my life

rough around the edges

rough edges of my tongue

ride roughshod over my life

my bad quarter of an hour

rub around my wrong ways

have crossed the rubicon

have ruffle someone feathers

i should have used good tongues

there is no saying

l like a scalded cat to make decision

my last bad quarter of an hour

i do things behind the scene

on the scent of my actions

am at the sea

i rise to the bait

all over bar shouting

my last bad quarter of an hour