The Noise

The noise is here,
I knew it would be
coming,
It's something I
don't fear,
As long as I don't
start running.

It is getting louder,
but I don't shed a
tear,
I just listen,
As the song is drawing
near.

Now it is pounding,
Like the song of beating
drums,
I now am hating the
way it is sounding,
I wish it was back to
it's hums.

It, of course, is louder,
It's more than just a pop,
All along I keep yelling,
"Make it stop."

It's still here,
But I've seemed to
calm down,
As I rock back and forth,
It stays a horrible, Horrible,
sound.

It is going now,
but so is my life,
My head is bleeding
from the hammer,
and also froma the
Knife.

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