The Bell

The chairs are there waiting
We each take a turn
It doesn't matter that we hate it
We all have to return

We try to forget
As our poison drips 
Why we've come
Or why we sit

We smile and pretend  
That its just a game
This couldn't be real
Our life is just the same

But everyone knows
In spite of it all
That death is here with us
It's given the call

So we keep sipping
From our toxic remedy
And hoping against hope 
We'll be cured of this malady

The bell is in front of us
Silent for the moment
Its waiting to be rung
By the one cured of this ailment

We stare at this bell
Yearning for the day
When it will ring for us
And we can forever stay away

The sound of the bell
Signals the end of this rife
For those who come here
It means they've been given their life
Copyright © | Year Posted 2010

Poem

Post Comments

Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.

Please Login to post a comment

Be the first to comment on this poem. Encourage this poet.

Get a Premium Membership
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a Premium Membership.
Book: Diverse Voices: The Poetry of Human Rights and the Pursuit of Peace