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Image for the poem The Match and The Bell

The Match and The Bell


If only mine sight could deceive
Bless'd, illusion t'would be
A solitary stray beam to my dilated eyes
Be this the almighty End?
Nay, breathe

Air lay heavy in my lungs
Though I squander it none
Hands no longer stagnant
Scouring for a break in the seal
Nay, none such a space, however
Alas! A key of sorts?
Placed in the notch before my face
Coarse on one side
And doth splinter with the other
Nay, breathe

To what service is this?!
A match to burn my troubles away?
Bringing my fist down in distemper
Doth brought about a chime
I shift around, in hopes of finding it
Aha, yes! A bell placed in the opposing corner
The handle dull and worn
Producing a cheery accent
Certainly, a saving grace!
Nay, breathe

With match and bell in mine clasp
The insipid choice to make
To sound the alarm for chance of refuge
Or to witness divine light in the midst of my departure
I smile, and with it, one hand doth shiver the bell
The other doth strike the match
I stare into the glow, and welcome the tone
Nay, breathe
Nay, breathe...
Nay...


Written by DarkfulLightless
Published
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