A cold hand clutches my throat

Just beneath my skin.

And not even my screams can make it 

To my mouth.

My strength is siphoned by the moments

That tick by.

Each second adds a letter to my 

Unforseeable end.

It is solidified when I fail to realize

That I have a choice.

That my chains 

Were given to me in exchange 

For my acceptance.

It is only when the other option,

The path that has yet to be beaten 

Is chosen that the hand releases 

And I am free

To speak.