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That Which Is Hidden

Thump-Thump. Thump-Thump. Thump-Thump.
Deep beneath her freckled skin, it beats a tattoo against her chest.
Thump-Thump. Thump-Thump. Thump-Thump.
Pounding on her breast bone, her ribs, yearning for freedom—release. Confined within its ivory prison, it hammers on the bars. “Let me out!” It screams, but all that comes out is:
Thump-Thump. Thump-Thump. Thump-Thump.
“Please, just let me go!”
Thump-Thump.
“Set me free!”
Thump-Thump.
The sound reverberating though her body, pulsing.
In her throat: Thump-Thump.
In her wrists: Thump-Thump.
In her thighs: Thump-Thump.
Screaming for freedom, the sound echoing through every organ, every muscle, until every atom of her being takes up the call. A never ending refrain demanding liberation. A revolution of the heart.
Thump-Thump. Thump-Thump. Thump-Thump. Thump-Thump. Thump-Thump.



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