• As I lay in my cell,
    I listen to the church bell,
    Singing my inevitable doom,
    Echoing around the grey stone room.

    With each resounding toll,
    I try to not lose control.
    The last of my past holds my hand,
    Doing her best to understand.

    I listen in silence to my daughter sing,
    Play her haunting violin.
    A song of sadness, longing, and pain,
    She never has need to explain.

    Fallen and broken,
    Too much unspoken.
    Waiting for death,
    I say good-bye with my last breath.