At the bloodied depths of my heart.

At the bloodied depths of my heart, whose assurance is lost by the repeated beating from outside by relentless affliction,deeming my heart beating twice as fast than in a world without pain, this being an unending panic, therein lies not even a whisper, but something softer. At this point it sounds what resembles a call to death, but I myself am torn, for I very well know that what resembles a call to death may be the remnant of the moments wherein I have felt alive, the reminiscing positivity and hope that is utterly disguised by the daily turbulence not necessarily brought upon by the universe and her balanced laws, but my own broken wings.

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