• finnisam 6w

    @writerdilse @readwriteunite @mirakeeworld @writersnetwork
    Even the most pleasant noises become terrible. Insanity grips repetition.

    Read More

    Ask Not. Get Out.

    The bell tolls. What for this time?
    Maybe it beckons my soul to the underworld.
    It becomes less harrowing. Almost a whimsical chime.
    Memories and the noise. They’re mine. Safely furled.
    Unbeknownst to me. The sound is in my head.
    Once soothing. Soon becomes a cacophony of madness.
    Chime. Again. Ding. Again. Singing such dread.
    Too. Far. Gone. I think. Yet fight the sadness.
    Shut up. Stop ringing. Get out. Please.
    To think you were once pleasant. A safe haven for me.
    I’m sorry. Too much of anything becomes a disease.
    Small tears. Remaining constant. Soon become a sea.
    My madness has no method. My mind no key.
    Ask not for whom the bell tolls. It tolls for thee.

    ©finnisam