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The light bulb makes a quiet rhythmic hum, It is as perpetual as constant, It is rapid and steady as a drum. It becomes repetitive and constant.

The computer hums as well, just the same. With whirs and clicks and endless droning noise. It seems all machines tend to play this game. Even my heart mimics the tinker toys.

It constantly beats just like the others, But it is not quite like its other kin. And by the way it stops when I see her, I know that this part of me is human.

By its inconsistency around you, I know I’m still human; that much is true.