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Drowning Bells in Morning Rain

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Broken rocks crumble from the mouths of well-mannered professionals.  Unwrapped from factory lines and managed by gossip rulebooks; they enter schools, churches, and highway on-ramps.  Telling you dreams they have replaced with substitute teachers, cashing in on rehearsed monologues.  Drowning bells in morning rain.  All the while teaching children the link between words and reactions.

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Devorchestra You're currently reading the poem Drowning Bells in Morning Rain, which was posted on Nov 12, 2011 by Devorchestra.

This is a solo poem.

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