CANDLE
CANDLE
The embodiment of hecatomb
Burns its own self,
And dispels the darkness,
It's wavy fragile flicker
Is like a mini morning sun.
The flame vanishes as the wind speaks.
The wax, it drips exquisitely
As pearly drops in unique designs
The wick that stands in the middle
That's what is making all this happen.
Being a candle isn't easy,
Has to burn itself,
In order to give mirth to others.
A candle is always personified,
For good persons,
As they always hurt themselves
To witness grin on others' face.