A BEATING HEART ONCE COLD 

Once still, black and preserved. Numb to all of the strife it has been through. Words of prayer to move on through and through. 

Was it me this time or again was it you? 

This organ here they call a heart they say it beats, yet mine is so....so still, trying to catch a rhythm of happiness, a moment of strength or even a screenshot of tranquility.

It has a bea...

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