That beat in her heart is no longer alive ; It’s died or maybe,somewhere lost in the depth of an ocean, deep down thoroughly stitched with sorrows, and expectations of a world,where every pulse is recorded, measured to a level of perfection . Perhaps, who cares about that died beat, it was meant to be there,found,and brought to display in the monument of wagers,eager to lock it away,in a matter of seconds, after witnessing a little thumping,bringing in a little escapade for a perfect end to the beat allowed to breathe happily hereafter, if not here.

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