The candle sat in a desolate room,

Alone but no longer lonely,

A comfortable silence surrounding it.

The candle could only whisper,

The flame dancing in and out of life,

Flickering, unsure of whether or not it was ready to die. 

The candle began to drip,

Crying itself out of existence,

Teasing me with the ability to do so.

The candle died silently,

(Unlike the wind)

Who screeched loudly outside my window,

Letting everyone know it was angry,

Making me wish I could scream just as loudly.

But no matter how badly I wanted to scream, 

Just like the wind,

I reamined silent,

(Just like the candle)