Is freedom when nothing can stop you?

Or when you’re silently falling,

Not caring what you crash through?

Is it when you can speak your mind?

Or when you’re completely alone,

And no one cares if you’re left behind?

Is the answer yet to be found?

Or is it like a lily that can only bloom

When the noose is cut to the ground?

But if the flame is then snubbed out,

Did it burn twice as bright?

Or was it sooner forgotten about?

Perhaps, the truth lives and dies

Before the relieving golden pink hues

Of the next sunrise.