Like words that are written in Pacific Ocean sand and washed away by a rising tide, so simply, effortlessly- so hearts change. Beat after beat, a seemingly steady rhythm. But hearts, they do change. Although this one hasn't. Not in the last year. A year that has felt like an eternity. An eternity is a long time for a heart to sit on a shelf and watch clueless strangers pass down below. One by one the dazed humans pass, rats in an unwinnable race, unaware of the bleeding heart that sits, beating, watching, blindly above their preoccupied heads. Why does the heart continue beating? For the same reason the people keep walking. What else would it do? If it could grow wings, surely it would do that, and fly off to a better spot. Or at least a different one.