Reminisce (PART TWO)

A Million Candle Wicks

The aroma of candles, the sparks of a flame,

For the hope she once had, and the dreams she'll tame,

Endeavouring and begging, a hand that will reach,

Yet it never quite touches, the flames that beseech.

The dripping wax of a candle, the entrails of smoke,

A lighter to light it, yet to incinerate and choke,

Once she lights it again, and sets fire to the wick,

It becomes entrails of opium, through thin and through thick.

With no one to guide her, and feats just to flee,

Her dreams will just fetter her, until they are free.

The inferno of lighters, of matchsticks and fire,

She lights every candle, in the form of a liar,

Such an imbecile to think, that the flames would truly last,

The girl keeps on envisioning, the shadows they cast.

The smell of strong ashes, the vestige of such strife,

The spark of the living, as the hilt of a knife,

A girl opens her mouth, to blow out the red,

For it was only the liars, she had merely just fed.