Enjoy. New rhyming technique. Very long!!!!!! Can you guess what this means before the end?

As I dance out my heart.
It is a work of special art.
One that I can't part.
Right from the start.

Bells in the fog.
They call to every gear and cog.
Fresh and or broken ones you jog.
It calls to me like an owner and dog.

It begs me to see.
It begs me to hear it be free.
Free from the empty glee.
Of paper and three.

Three by three notes of one by two.
The bells in the fog, I wonder who.
Who shall see this through.
And play what I see in you?

Six notes, one by two shall repeat.
Six times over until the end of its feat.
One by two of the same until defeat.
What I hear in you, my heart skips a beat.

As the bells in the fog play.
I dance to the sound you say.
And listen as you lay.
And make me to listen through the day.

As you slay and kill.
And maim for the thrill.
As the bells play with my will.
And play with my body so still.

As I dance and sway to the howl.
Howl of wind and the scowl.
Of your angered voice of the owl.
And sway to the sound of my growl.

As I break and snap until I'm under.
From the lightning and thunder.
And a sad plunder.
I hear the bells from the blunder.

The blunder of the foggy lies.
Where I sway under changing skies.
And dance while my body cries.
I'm eaten by worms, maggots, and flies.

As I'm hanging low.
Hanging on as I am banging slow.
The banging of what is in tow.
And letting my mind leaving its blow.

As I sway and I rock.
Under the bells in the fog's knock.
Knocking courage off as I block.
Block my mind from having it lock.

Like my joints and bones.
As it knows where it leads and atones.
My mind's grave under the stones.
While my body rocks gently with the drones.

As I cannot speak.
And I break past my peak.
In isolation and start to leak.
And bury myself in the bells and creak.

Tweak my slow dance and sway.
Left to right and move in a different way.
As I stare at the start of day.
While I see the sun's ray.

As it hits my eyes and skin.
As I'm nothing but a mesh so thin.
Of brokenness and a grin.
As I gush and melt with sin.

I listen to bells in the fog and dust.
It is a must.
Just listen as I bust.
With a pop and trust.

As I dance out my heart.
It is a work of special art.
One that I can't part.
Right from the start.

Bells in the fog.
They call to every gear and cog.
Fresh and or broken ones you jog.
It calls to me like an owner and dog.

It begs me to see.
It begs me to hear it be free.
Free from the empty glee.
Of paper and three.

Three by three notes of one by two.
The bells in the fog, I wonder who.
Who shall see this through.
And play what I see in you?

And as my legs bend.
And I look at my rotten end.
I stare as colors mend.
In the sky above as I tend.

Tend to do as best I can.
As the the bells ran.
Ran with the tune's span.
As I sway to the sound of a fan.

As I rock to the bells in the fog's drone.
My bones turn to dust in a white tone.
A color not so sad and alone.
As the maggots eat me, I still condone.

As I rock and sway.
And move in a different way.
I dance in the wind, night and day.
As I lay.

Lay floating.
As I'm gloating.
Gloating in movement with blood coating.
Coating my flesh as it is roasting.

As I hum to the bell.
I wonder if I'll ever feel well.
Enough to try and tell.
Why I'm dancing with a lovely smell.

A smell of joy.
It isn't a decoy.
It is just a smell so coy.
Like that of an old toy.

As my bones turn to dust.
And it feels like I'm covered in rust.
I know in my head I trust.
Trust the bells in the fog's lust.

A lust to consume.
As I sway here I can only assume.
As I rock in the air and trees I presume.
I presume I must resume.

Resume to my ringing.
As they watch me singing.
Singing the tune I'm bringing.
With all my heart to continue clinging.

As I sway in the trees.
With a bell in my hand playing in threes.
Six by six notes as I bend my knees.
And hear one snap and my leg flees.

Flees to the ground.
With a mild sound.
No one to hear me or be found.
In my sways, rocks, and even me twirl round.

Just a little peck.
I hear the bells in the fog beck.
Beck and call for me to wreck.
Wreck myself more as I sway on my neck.

Yet I'm alive, I guess I wasn't wise.
Wise to die properly as I continue to rise.
As I wait for sunrise.
To glimmer on my rotting body to advise.

Advise me and twirl in full.
Full circles as my eyes are dull.
I'm paralyzed and rotting in my pull.
My pull at hearing the bell so null.

Ring ring ring.
Hear me sing.
Ring ring ring.
Ting ting ting.

In the past week I strive.
Crows feed me to keep me alive.
The least number is five.
Five stare at me ring it as I dive.

Dive down deep.
As I sway to their music to keep.
Keep playing even as I start to seep.
As they caw and creep.

They get water, food, a push, and clean.
Everyday to keep the bell playing as I lean.
To keep the chime from starting to wean.
They aren't mean.

As I rot with maggots in my skin.
In my flesh and booze smell so thin.
As I smell of booze and gin.
As I'm brokenness and a wide grin.

I can't scream.
I can only dream.
And pay the mistakes I beam.
Beam out like this disgusting cream.

Cream that coats my nightgown.
As I am far out of my town.
Bones turn to dust and fall down.
All as puss coat my skin so blackish brown.

Dust, blood, cream, and puss gush.
Gush and seep and so very lush.
As the wind howls and crows rush.
To feed me berries from the bush.

Bush that grew under.
Under me from the stupidest plunder.
From my leg and body as I hear thunder.
I shouldn't have done this blunder.

As I rock and sway.
I play the bell every day.
I wish I just may.
May stop and stay.

Stay and lie.
Lie still just to up and die.
But alas I'm not leaving this tie.
Tie around my neck as I become a pie.

A mushy pie of flesh and rope.
I can't cope.
As the crows feed me, I mope.
Mope as I can only hope.

As I hear the bell in the fog.
I feel like a gear and cog.
A machine you have to jog.
As I feel like a call from an owner and dog.

Bells in the fog.
They call to every gear and cog.
Fresh and or broken ones you jog.
It calls to me like an owner and dog.

It begs me to see.
It begs me to hear it be free.
Free from the empty glee.
Of paper and three.

Three by three notes of one by two.
The bells in the fog, I wonder who.
Who shall see this through.
And play what I see in you?
In the bells in the fog.