Beelzebub's lip

My boat no longer floats,
my river hath dried.
My land is all but lush,
tumble weeds and dirt.
My plow brings forth no fruit,
my horse has become fertilizer for nowt.
My legacy has dwindled to whispers of failure.
My life scrambled,
my hands are dead.
My wagon lay useless along the road,
no horse to pull it and no where to go.
There is no escape from this awful land,
save walk or death.
My prayers have fallen short of the deaf ears that await them.
I realize now that I have settled upon Beelzebub's lip.
The brim of my hat has gone limp with sweat.
and I must leave this place,
Before the sun set's my house a blaze.