Five seconds was all it took for the heart to stop.
The thread was careful under my hands.
Inside of the sterile room one tear dropped
from who knows who.
No one speaks of the safety.
For whose life would be harmed when the life is already gone?
His mother was outside with a quiet smile of ignorance.
And now I will be stuck with the scalpel of knowledge shoved deep into heart's cavity.
The last stich closes my ribcage's capacity of breath
and suddenly I remember I am in front of the mother and already wasted three second on myself.
With the remaining,
"You're son didn't make it."
And neither did I as I hit the pavement.
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