Terror, type, and Tempest

One may say the loss of the branch off for the taking
To strike some terror into one's heart.

Never let them whisper a measure of time on my side
To stroke some terror into one's heart.

Find relative ease in my soul as it breathes through life
To strike some type into one's heart.

Bound at the wrists by the tying strands of duty I lift them
To stroke some type into one's heart.

Fates become academic as they placate bonds in effort
To stroke some of that Tempest into one's heart.

Gasping for the final pass as the bind breaks...freedom
To stroke some of thine Tempest as one's heart.