The flames are burning, dancing impatiently, praying to die; like a mad man
pleading for his death. The crimson and radiant lemon flames flicker around
the wick, dancing to their own music that's being made. The dark,
molten wax bleeds, sliding down the edges of a cande to a shallow pool at
the base. There, it hardens to a cold, dark nothing; like a statue, standing
high and mighty through the wind and the rain, waiting for someone, anyone
to love him and set him free. Empty space taking the shape where the wax
once stood, so hard, cold, and distant; like a mother's heart that
doesn't love her baby girl.The smoke being emitted from the flames
escapes into the air, where it will unknowingly get breathed in. We enhale
it, now knowing it will soon kills us, it fills our lungs, inhabiting us. We
hope something will happen soon, hope that enough smoke will enter our
lungs, making it impossible for air to reach our us, we hope that this will
soon rid the earth, everyone, of our prescence. We see our reflection within
the familiar flames, the fire burning at our skin. All within the flames of
the heartless, mindless, scentless candle.

~I don't like the ending of this one too much...Any opinions are
greatfully appreciated!

 
Copyright © goodandevil1309, All Rights Reserved