Series of poems

Ringing

Ringing
Ring, a ring that was the noise I was hearing from my cell.
Ring, the ring that was the noise; I heard every day.
I heard it loud in my ear again.
The same ring that warned me that I was going to snap.
I grabbed the clock and threw it across the room.
It made a rambunctious sound.
It was shattered into many little chunks and the shards were sharp.
So sharp I accidentally cut myself and the ringing stopped.
My vision then cleared and it was heaps of bloody bodies surrounding me.
I could smell an odor so toxic, I had to cover my mouth to keep from gagging.
I stared down at my hands to find my hands covered in blood.
My lovely hands were tarnished with blood.
I licked my fingers and a ferocious grin spread across my face.
I finally, lost my insanity.
And finally, the ringing was over for good.
The bodies were still there sadly even though the ringing noise was gone.
I held my hands over my ears and crouched down on the floor.
Just as the door was kicked in and guns were pointed toward me.
The ringing noise was gone and I was put away in a cold cell.
What awaited me was worse than the ringing noise.