SO I kept getting really bored in school and such today and whipped out my sidekick and just wrote for a bit.
Here's what I got.
They say you measure the size of a man by the size of his heart. But what if he doesn't have a heart? What if he's just a solid mass taking up space, still alive in someways, minus heart. And even though he could have compassion for others, a beat never came from his chest. Blood didn't pound through his veins and his touch was cold and soothing. But then someone did find comfort in all of him. In his cold touch. In his rythemless soul. In the way he came and went like air through a crack in the fire place, almost unnoticed.
NOW you know what goes threw my mind when I am bored.
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