A Candle

March 6, 2011
Now that I've grown
Now that I'm old
My body is wax
Made of muscle, fat, and bone

And at the top of my frame
sits a wick so insane,
'cause it holds all my thoughts
Yeah, this is my brain

Those thoughts are my fire
They keep me going like a train
I hope I never lose them
I hope I always hold my flame

And I know it will kill me
It'll melt all my body
It'll burn up my wick
But it must remain lit

And my voice,
the smoke
from the fire,
will linger longer than me

While I'm burning bright
my smoke will rise high
to be lost among clouds and sky
Soon it'll be lost, gone, forgotten

Yeah, this
is the life
of a candle.

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