dreaming of goddesses, sunflowers and italian sunshine.
yet, every heaven has a hell under its surface.

write free, SomeFormOfWriting
miss you, LackingASocialLife
go be great, paperbird

Message to Readers

whoop i went back to rhyming eww

not totally proud of this but figured it was good enough to post

island in her mind #candleflame

December 16, 2018


i held a little candle flame,
held it in a palm of stone.
it flickered, blasted by the winds
of blood close and not her own.

    the stone hand lies in solitude,
encircled by a moat of deepest black.
when the clouds above part briefly
it may seem as clear as glass, alack,

    unlike the melted sands of time
the moat cannot be breached.
it's black and blue are eternal and yet
the small candle flame they fail to reach.

    in vain they try to flush it out,
their efforts strong and true.
but strength and truth aren't always good,
experience causing a distorted view.

    the waters, it seemed, were kerosine,
only meant to fuel the blaze,
and while they thought they were crystal blue
their minds were a filthy haze

    of shallow wars and power surges
the waters' minds did wander,
of defeated foes and weakened minds
too many left to pointlessly ponder.

    but the water fueled the candle flame,
made it burn brighter in the darkness.
it warms the stagnant palm of stone
in the empty mind of a girl once thought heartless.

    the candle flame is a fickle thing,
she'd tell you if you asked.
it's been snuffed out by those she trusted
and by those she merely passed.

    her candle flame will never die
but let her bullies gloat,
for they are merely water
around her little candle flame's island of hope.
Find Ellie O'Grady's contest here


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  • December 16, 2018 - 1:33pm (Now Viewing)

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