Stiff and broken the tree falls in the river,
Dead silence comes with a silent quiver.
A vast nothing with no one to mourn,
To be depressed or to feel torn.
There’s no one left in the world to fear,
No need to cower at every strange noise I hear,
Or the terror that comes when using my voice,
Almost as if I want to stand up and rejoice.
Freedom comes with the steepest price,
Not once, nor twice, but thrice.
A payment I will never again make,
Twisted my mind into the break.
The birds who once sang have gone,
As you walk you know what went wrong,
It must have been you because your who’s left,
It must have been you that caused all this death.