The Tolling of the Bell

I can hear the bell tolling

Almost every minute

Of every day.

It all started years ago

When my dog died.

It was a simple murmur then.

After that I was told the truth about Santa Claus

And the Easter Bunny

Not to mention the Tooth Fairy.

At each of these shatterings of my innocence

The tolling grew louder.

As the realities of the world

Came crashing down upon my small churning brain

I heard the tolling grow louder

And louder

And louder.

Till now I stand here an old man of thirty.

With graying hair

And deep hollows eyes

Sunken inside a cave of wrinkles once called a face.

I hear the bell tolling.

Causing my head to vibrate with each ring

Rattling my teeth right down to the roots.

There was something else that came along with the bell.

As all demons seem to travel in pairs

So to does the tolling.

I first spotted it far off

And it gradually grew closer

Till now it stands before me, and I stand up in my chair to embrace it.

I can take the tolling no more.

The hangman’s noose awaits me

With the hopeful promise of silence.

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