Chimes of crime from the belfry.

Swept under the rug that hangs in the window.

The dirt glistening in the sun.

White Birds flapping their wings beating the rug pristine.

A dark feather of clouds soar in formation through the sky.

Down below theres a melee.

All your past mistakes falling to the ground.

Pieces of debris,held under a community magnifying glass.

Larger than life,lessons you thought you knew by heart.

The daylight takes a bow as the curtain darkens the atmosphere

The neon lights below illuminating those pointing fingers.

That puts you in a box with a broken microphone.

You try to plead your innocence,but theres no one listening outside.

Closed ears covered with dirty hands.

Innocent bystanders?

Guilty of deeds in the dark,exposed by the faint light that spills from your window.

You turn out the lights,and you pull the rug back on the floor.

You thought they would understand.