[ WP ] You 've been living in a bunker , with your mother and no one else , for almost a decade . You 've just found out that her pacemaker battery wo n't last much longer . You do n't have any surgical skills . What now ?

The mortal heart is beating, beating, 
 Its tune's a sombre one. 
 And with each beat our time is fleeting. 
 Fleeting, nearly done. 
 
 The soul it serves, before me sits, 
 Her smile barely held. 
 Her heart against her rib cage hits, 
 A rhythm nearly felled. 
 
 She spends these moments laughing, laughing, 
 Loving who she's been. 
 I ca n't but think, each second passing, 
 This is our final scene. 
 
 The melody of stillicide and heart, 
 Which deafens all my thought, 
 Betrays her nearing deathly start, 
 The fate we've always fought. 
 
 Her mortal heart was beating beating, 
 Until it beat no more. 
 This moment was our final meeting, 
 A meeting once adored. 
 
 
 

