What holds me clinging to this world?

What holds me clinging to this world?
Is it the dull pain
Creeping slowly when I hurl

Insipid smiles in the rain?
Oh, it’s the grainy sound of bells
Sweeping anxiously down the lane

Where I used to live —a daze swells
Incessantly— at the end.
The slant of the chime quells

Flying moans of a lonely pigeon.
Oh yes, that pigeon adrift at my last childhood apartment.
I’m a child on the mend,

Perhaps, a little mad since the motions meant
To envelop me tightly
I gnaw the scars, still thirsty for fulfillment.

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