Voices and Vines

Wait, Wait for the bell,
Wait for it's crying straight from hell.
Beseech it and keep it but never fall,
to its ever persistent, drudging call.
Lay flat, lay still, don't come too near,
for the darkness in your heart it will surely mirror.

Once ensnared, you will never be free,
Unlike the butterflies on the early summer breeze.
But bound to a death you will never escape,
To a sweet singing voice and a dark haunting cape.
They seem so sweet, the voice and the vines,
But their simple complexion is to hide their signs.

You will be met with tireless keep,
All those, fun and joy will finally weep.
Your crossroads in this life has now met demise,
And demons come forth from their ancient disguise.
You see now, the voice that screeches,
The beautiful vines, becoming leeches.

Now you see what you've become,
Screeches and leeches come to claim their sullied one.
No time to plead, no time to lie,
As they drag you below away from the sky.
Eternity awaits with loving pain, in raging burning profanity,
With no choice left, curl away and let go of what was sanity.