Thoughts like the ticking of a clock

Wrists snapped back
            And severed through
With adoration of a
            Higher degree, few
Will see such acts –
            This blatant hell
Of tortuous will,
            The rising swell
Of steady breaths
            As fists unfurl,
And the quirk of
            Subtle smiles curl’d –
And the pain of
            One still-beating
Heart will course,
            Though time is fleeting.