I watch the candle burning down
to the final ash,
Flickering in the dead of night
enticing me into its silent dance,
Melting . . . melting . . .
I fall prey,
To the phantoms of the dying flame,
The shadow of a child passes on
to the ghost of a woman bound in chains,
Innocence relinquished to scorched remains,

And so former lives of a spirit mourn
the decimation of the soul,
As the heart seeks refuge
in the eye of the storm,
Falling . . . falling . . .
far from grace,
To the phantoms of a life untamed,
Fleeing the wrath of a condemned fate
where a wide-eyed child went astray,
A ravaged woman walks in vain.

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