The Life of A Candle

November 3, 2012
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I sit on a shelf for years to come.
Alone, scared, dirty.
I wait and wait for years to come,
Waiting, waiting, waiting.
As a candle I am meant to burn.
Instead I sit here wasting away,
On a shelf.
A tear runs down my glass.
No one is here to light me.
Soon I become dead.
I will not light.
I sit melted away on a dark shelf.

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