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This specific poem is one of few that has been in my head, revised, rewritten, redone, and spoken a million times. I really had no idea someone could redo such a small amount of words that many times.
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The candle lies awake every night.

Waiting for the day to break.
The void of death to dissipate.

Pleading candle, desiring to have been born a different way
perhaps on a cake, blown out for the promise of good fate.

Instead, the candle cries every night, encased in darkness, depending on its own light.
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Photo Credit to @the_sanctuarycandle_co on Instagram.