Flickering flame,
languishing light,
beating upon wooden frame,
a forgotten story,
lost from sight.

One day they were here,
the next they were gone,
they were extinguished out of fear,
no longer can they sing,
they've forgotten the song.

In a way they were innocent,
in a way they were wrong,
their ideals were incandescent,
their trials afterward,
long.

And still,
when they are found in other places,
they are held against their will,
but then again,
is this not true in all cases?