The Corridors of Time

The corridors of time. Into the corridors of time; a man that is me stands and listens to how many times the church bell chimes, all manner of voices and faces you may find; in the rooms along the corridors of my mind, a young girl is trapped in a room with no toys as she cried; so she scratches her eyes out-now she is blind, an old man is naked and cold on the floor where he lies; as a black crow waits in the corner till the old man shivers to death and dies, a young mother rocks her baby to sleep then tired she sighs; the father is watching in disgust with his condescending all unknowing eyes, a small boy is sleeping and he is dreaming of what tomorrow may find; as a man in a pub drinks more alcohol to leave his dreams far behind, a dead man with a brown suit and tie is hanging from a noose in a room on the other side; as two white cloaked angels with halo's take his soul and mend it with a prayer from God on high, the next room is empty waiting for my next person in the corridor of time; but when I see them I will keep them forever till again the church bells chime.