• I sit here, nestled by candle light.
    The sweet smell of the burn, is my delight.
    As it burns, I picture my past going through that flame.
    Maybe once I forget it, my life will finally be tamed.
    At least that is what I tell myself.
    Every day and every night,
    I try to make things right.
    But sadly, no matter how hard I try.
    My past always seems to find its way, back through that flame.
    And once again I am at a loss.
    After that flame dies, I am nothing more than a box of torned memories.
    Searching for a flame, that will keep my memories on a high, high shelf.
    Where I can no longer be hurt, where I can finally be free.