I listened for your voice.
I listened even when they said "The ritual is beginning."
I listened even when I crossed the bridge, the calm water and warm sun mocking my every step.
I listened even when I stood before the door, looking at the other path, the empty path where you should be but weren't.
I listened even when I walked down that dark tunnel, with nobody to hold my hand.
I listened even when I let that little note slide from my hand and flutter down to the cold steps beneath me.
I listened even when I saw the noose hanging from the gate, waiting for my neck, the neck that you already claimed from birth.
I listened even when the rough rope scratched my neck, parodying the soft hands that should have been there instead.
I listened even when it started to hurt and my mind screamed for air.
I listened even when everything started to fade and wither away.
I listened even when I asked "Why?"
I listened even when I died.