Ode to The Car Which Was Hell-Bent On Its Owner's Devastation

Miss Beatrice, my time with you is finally done.

Because of you, my dignity was overrun.

For ten long months you sought my demise;

I know now that purchasing you was unwise.

The oil-burning engine left a putrid aroma.

The carbon monoxide could have put me in a coma.

But all of your attacks I have survived

Though, of oxygen my brain was deprived.

Pushing, sliding, cracking, jumping

Why were you so intent on abusing?

Since March, you’ve run up a bill quite nice,

More than thirty-five times the trade-in price!

Now I’ve gone and sold you to the junkyard

Still, my budget and existence are truly scarred.

Though your existence I surely abhor,

You won all the battles, but I won the war.