Day 3: Sestina
The church bell recites the hour;
I'm at home and my ears are ringing.
I'm trying to figure out why sound.
Most people tune them out anyway.
I'm not exactly pissed, but this sort of shit gets to me.
I mean, I'm trying to fucking sleep!
The menacing bells rouse me from my too-deep sleep.
No one other than me should be up at this ungodly hour.
The streets are practically post-apocalyptic; no one is awake other than me.
Why are they always ringing?
Why must they keep up with their incessant pealing anyway?
It's like torture to me, I'm drowning in sound.
It's almost like a call to arms, such is the power of its clarion sounding!
When lured by its siren call, how can I possibly sleep?
I have to defend this realm in any way
I can. This is my golden hour,
all I can hear is he ringing
of my sword against steel. The world ends with me.
But lately my grievance has been "Why me?"
I'm pretty sure my rationale is, in this case, sound.
All I hear this days are bells. The bell are ringing
and nobody can sleep!
At this hour,
nobody should be sleeping anyway.
But what's the point, anyway?
This doesn't even matter to me.
Time ticks by. Minute by minute, hour by hour.
And I keep getting older, I can barely hear the sound
of my heart beating; the earth calls me to sleep
and in my slumber I'll never again hear the awful bells' ringing.
In the ground, I am unable to hear the bells ringing.
I never liked them anyway.
All I ever wanted to do was sleep!
Now that sleep has finally found me,
why do I feel so empty? I can't hear a sound
and I'm decaying now, time is gone, every second feels like an hour.
This is my last hour, I can hear the bells ringing.
I can't hear them when they sound, I'm always fighting anyway.
But why do we fight? What does it gain me? I've ever lobbied for peace, and blissful, endless sleep.
The church bell recites the hour;
I'm at home and my ears are ringing.
I'm trying to figure out why sound.
Most people tune them out anyway.
I'm not exactly pissed, but this sort of shit gets to me.
I mean, I'm trying to fucking sleep!
The menacing bells rouse me from my too-deep sleep.
No one other than me should be up at this ungodly hour.
The streets are practically post-apocalyptic; no one is awake other than me.
Why are they always ringing?
Why must they keep up with their incessant pealing anyway?
It's like torture to me, I'm drowning in sound.
It's almost like a call to arms, such is the power of its clarion sounding!
When lured by its siren call, how can I possibly sleep?
I have to defend this realm in any way
I can. This is my golden hour,
all I can hear is he ringing
of my sword against steel. The world ends with me.
But lately my grievance has been "Why me?"
I'm pretty sure my rationale is, in this case, sound.
All I hear this days are bells. The bell are ringing
and nobody can sleep!
At this hour,
nobody should be sleeping anyway.
But what's the point, anyway?
This doesn't even matter to me.
Time ticks by. Minute by minute, hour by hour.
And I keep getting older, I can barely hear the sound
of my heart beating; the earth calls me to sleep
and in my slumber I'll never again hear the awful bells' ringing.
In the ground, I am unable to hear the bells ringing.
I never liked them anyway.
All I ever wanted to do was sleep!
Now that sleep has finally found me,
why do I feel so empty? I can't hear a sound
and I'm decaying now, time is gone, every second feels like an hour.
This is my last hour, I can hear the bells ringing.
I can't hear them when they sound, I'm always fighting anyway.
But why do we fight? What does it gain me? I've ever lobbied for peace, and blissful, endless sleep.