Pouring rain in a still shroud of night,
cupping a candle between trembling hands- the cold doesn't bother you.
your used to it and yet, it stings, like needles dropping from the sky
or long nails unforgivingly tearing inside of you

but that's ok as well. because you know how unforgiving the world is
and yet when you look down and see

how the candle swells and shrinks, it reminds you of it's battle to exist.

such a small flame, yet it fights in defiance to grow larger than it's purpose

A small smile appears at the corner of your lips
As you imagine better places to be