Can Lonely Words Revive the Dead?

The dark wings of happiness flappeth like a wounded bat.
End these days with a cracked church bell whimpering.
Rain has drowned every parade that limped along this street.
Remind me of the one time that I smiled without fear.
On quiet days you can hear the gun shots like angry whispers.
Return to the glory days? Good one. Write a poem about it asshole.