Darkness closes in. Black tendrils of malice snaking closer like a slithering serpent. Their prey a beating heart. Flesh a pale red as if the blood had been drained from it. Mangled wounds held together by loose stitches scar the soft flesh, revealing a life of heartbreak and pain. But still the weary heart pushes on. Occasionally it's beats will lessen as a smoky tendril closes around it, but somehow it manages to break free. Pumping as strong as it ever has. Still the darkness tries fruitlessly to trap it in a tangled web of doubt and despair, but the broken heart fights on.
Stay strong.