There is a place she lives that is not a house or a home. It is a small space that beats almost in silence. That is however, until she awakes in the morning with a radiant glow upon her face,for that place of residence grows ten sizes and beats at a louder pace. She will never be able to pack her things and leave this place she calls home, she is trapped for better or worse in sickness and in health. This place is warm and keeps her alive. It pumps out blood that is not hers; yet it still creates the oxygen in her lungs. The thumping never aggravates her or wakes her in the night,but it sooths the soul in the place that it is in. The walls will never come down around her through fire or flood, For the place she lives is were the body pumps my blood