I feel in my heart, a wheel turning
like the cogs of a clock steadily churning,
Unwound and rewound,
hidden between empty expansive lungs,
brittle tissue sacs and blue cooled blood,
thick and sticking like day old mud,
all the while, the last fibers of my heart beat,
a thundering stampede, erratic and frantic,
like a parade of elephants running 'cross the chest
Pressure burning like iron branding the flesh.
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