I am but candlelight.
How long will I burn?
How softly is my flame?
How bright am I?
Does the metal of me
melt evenly?
Or does it pool
in lopsided puddles?
Perhaps even clinging,
desperately,
to the sides of it’s vessel.
Will I be snuffed out
by another hand,
or unfavorable weather?
Or will I burn,
steadfast,
until the very
end.
About the Creator
Ellie Hoovs
Breathing life into the lost and broken. Writes to mend what fire couldn't destroy. Poetry stitched from ashes, longing, and stubborn hope.
My Poetry Collection DEMORTALIZING is out now!!!: https://a.co/d/5fqwmEb
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