The Sound of Childhood

Sun, 01/05/2020 - 03:49 -- ohboi42

Bells.Ring deafeningly.With means of girls and boys.Underneath the original singing.Like bells we were once new and brass.Then reality kicks you in the ass.The metal rusts as you walk from class to class.Subtly the tone turning into sass.As bells ringing quiets our childhood stops.We grow old and the sound is no more.Going on without music is a bore.Though some remain the childish pop.Most end up dead on the floor. 

This poem is about: 
Our world
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