In hushed rooms and empty corridors
I counted my heartbeats.
One, two, three.

Some days I was more alive than others,
stepping in tune with the pulsating muscle
in my chest.
Slow and uneasy.
One. Two.

And one day,
After I had paced the corridor seven times,
hushed the children
and silenced the banshee,
I found it.
Quiet.

I heard the last thump of my heart.
One.

In the monotonous ringing of silence
and in the empty hall,
there was tranquility.