Candlelight

I am but a little candle,

Burning bright,

Used to lengthen the light,

My wick, my core, my inner strength,

My flame his temporary heat.

All the while he searches the dark,

For some form of electricity.

 

As I melt beneath the flame he caused,

His eyes wander close and afar,

And I, in his clutch,

Unknowingly his temporary fix,

Am loyal to the end.

And he?

 

He set me aside,

Blew out my flame,

And walked away.

 

I was the little candle,

Whom once burned bright,

Now I’m but a blackened wick,

Tortured for his delight.