The sound of the bell
That sound of awkwardness
The fright it sends down my veins
Of joy, fear, presumptions and guilt
Joy of good tidings set for reap
Fear of evil burgeoning
Presumption of superstitions foretold.
Guilt of sins past.
The bell cries out loud
Roars even into the darkest parts;
Into the wood and beneath the deep pool
There’s only few and one thing
That separates the bell from me
The walls high and mighty
The walls so strong yet fragile
The walls built to keep me safe
But no, here they come falling flat.