None

There is nothing so startling
As the cessation of sound
When the screaming ends
And the silence begins.
Or the chattering of the birds
And the squeaking of the swing
Rustle of leaves,
Shotgun blasts away the noise.
It is so hard to deal
With the last moments
Before it all changed
One bad decision, bang.
In the end, the birds sang again
And I would see the tire
Pushed by the breeze
The rope squeaking.
And then the cessation of noise,
Slowly, gently turning away.
Hush, be gentle, fade beautifully
Then none.