Flicker, flick
don't exhaust the candle stick
drip drop plip plop
the wick will run out soon
hiss, spit
goes the flame
it slowly drowns in its own remains
watch the waxy colors changes
from orange to blue
it takes on a whispering hue
such a tiny thing to snuff
too bad it had had enough
The ink of a writer comes from the creative juices that live deep within the heart
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