The Bell Jar

As the clock strikes another hour passing,
hope just keeps deteriorating,
sun and the moon coliding in anguish
love drowning in the darkest abyss
the golden rose dying in the bell jar
coating lungs with black tar
the stench of iron in the air
War
its drawing near
demon days are coming
and my heart keeps calling
but they're not responding.
Thicker layer of tar
death inside the bell jar
tick tock of the clock.