Sounds the first quiet click.
Close your eyes; try to think.
Utters the unmerciful clock hand.
Look around, survey the land.
Drums the warning; your time is short.
You clutch the wires, your last resort.
Three choices, only one right answer.
Your head is pounding, your heart beating faster.
Each and every frantic thought a desperate deplore.
You beg god for help, each ragged breath a costly chore.
You wait for a sign, your mind a delapidated enclosure.
The will to live surges through your veins as you attempt a reverberature.
You let loose a strangled cry.
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.