Life is like a tiny flame,
quivering and shaking, afraid of pain.
those who hurt you are simply the wind.
raging and blowing, trying to make you give in.
We are candlelight, just a tiny flame.
bending and twisting, to give hope to those in pain.
And the wind, howling and moaning will try to blow you out.
But be kind to the wind,
for once they too,
were a gentle, giving fire like you.
And though they may seem mean.
without their touch, your flame would no longer gleam.
YOU ARE READING
Oleander-COMPLETED
PoesíaALL RIGHTS RESERVED Her words were like oleander flowers, so delicate, like a gossamer spider string, but poisonous, like her scarred, despondent heart. *in other words, my crap poetry that is still really important to me*
