A small simple blow of a powerful sentence, a light drop of endless paint, a broken mind, broken glass. A forgotten story, shallow of character, and that of the past. Is like a burnt, dusted, cracked no longer used candle still full of use. A simple cylinder of wax, enough to last that of a year like a elation ship filled with pain. But the fire of a candle just like us needs oxygen, and too will wilt without. Left in the dust of the past, like memories or life's lost. We have a fire that is like a candle once out is hard to relight.
We burn out own candle, that others can scuff out. But too as a candle we can put it out our selfs. The wax is so simple yet so complex like our mix of emotions. We can both save candles and humans, if only just once that we can. We can melt them to the core just as we can break each other to ours. Each have a consequence whether it be death or fire.
We and candles are so alike, we both burn, have a fire that will go out. And both can be broken.
We both drown against the ocean, have a core, we can both be saved. Both can be used till there is nothing left, but a shallow shell. Can be filed with life and passion. Be built up, but just as easy break. Me and you are just candles, so similar, yet so different.
