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Rated: E · Poetry · Emotional · #1877104
Poem about the echoes of the past
Somewhere in the world there is a place where bells are ringing at Catholic church early in the morning,

the smells of dawn and freshly baked bread come through the wide open window.

Somewhere in the world I am solitary walking through the concrete jungle.

Deafen by car horns beeping and all cries and smirks of mental town

Traffic lights have blinded my eyes and I got soaked with the smell of takeways

My head is full of drunken thoughts and electronic music from nearby clubs,

Again I pretended that I am part of that all and I have put every effort to nicely blend into the background,

but deep in my heart

the bells are still ringing ...
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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/1877104