Tick,
Sounds the first quiet click.
Tick,
Close your eyes; try to think.
Tick,
Utters the unmerciful clock hand.
Tick,
Look around, survey the land.
Tick,
Drums the warning; your time is short.
Tick,
You clutch the wires, your last resort.
Tick,
Three choices, only one right answer.
Tick,
Your head is pounding, your heart beating faster.
Tick,
Each and every frantic thought a desperate deplore.
Tick,
You beg god for help, each ragged breath a costly chore.
Tick,
You wait for a sign, your mind a delapidated enclosure.
Tick,
The will to live surges through your veins as you attempt a reverberature.
Silence,
You let loose a strangled cry.
Fear,
How will it feel to die?
A roaring dissonance.
The torrid bite of fire.
A sweltering wave.
Your stolen soul respires.
A perverse sense of tranquility
sets over the domain.
Your death a sense of clarity
to all those that remain.
The flaming sanctuary
forever a reminder
of our noninfallibility
and our fragile disposition.
