Wax

Have you ever noticed what happens to a candle once it has started to melt?
How the wax pools in the centre until it has nowhere to go so it eventually overflows, spilling down the sides.
How, even when the flame has died it still stands there strong but if you look closely you can see the bits that have melted. The bits that have changed shape. Then you realise that it will never look the same again.
I think that's what happens to people...someone or something touches them and afterwards they are never the same.

candle headed kids,
melting under pressure.
contorting and dying under the weight of something so bright and important:
a flame.
the burn of a good future just an arms reach away.
the heat of not letting anyone down.
the scorching pain of reaching through the flame,
the one thing destroying them,
just to succeed.
just to not let anyone down.
just to live.
anxious.
forever anxious.

smog headed kids.
they cannot breathe.
their thoughts,
contorting around their lungs,
killing them.
so dark,
so dark in their minds.
the need for pain,
the feeling of undeserving.
no one understands a smog headed kid.
forever choking over their own mind.

i wrote about the one thing i know best, my mental illnesses. i hope you enjoy and know you're not alone, whether you're head is filled with smog or candle wax, or something else. <3
Rose Sep 12
Sad

⦁                                                        I
                                              ­         just
                                                      want
 ­                                                 someone
        ­                                      to talk to. All
                                          I need right now
                                     is a shoulder to cry on,
                                a kind word, a loving smile.
                            The kind of silent understanding
                          you feel with someone who knows
                         you inside and out. I just want to be
                         loved, not for what I can give some-
                           one, not for how hard I can make
                            them laugh, but literally just for
                                 who I am. Someone who
                                    loves me despite me.


               Despite my flaws and cruel words and harsh
                          thoughts and lonely feelings. I'm
                                    tired of feeling like a
                                                burden.
       ­                                             I'm
                ­                                  tired
                         ­                           of
                                   ­              being
                                                   told
                                                 what
                                                     I
                                                   am
                                                  and
        ­                                         what
                                                     I
                                               should
                                                strive
   ­                                                to
                                                   be.
                                                Why
                                                  do
     ­                                           you
                  ­                        deject me?
                             Why do you neglect to see
                    that I'll be on this shelf for eternity?

© Rose 2017
I'm confident in myself and in who God created me to be... but it would be nice to have a shoulder to cry on sometimes.
R M Grahn Sep 8

Burning in the night
A candle waves about.
Puffs of smoke rise up.
The space glows—flickering.

A calming warmth cuts the darkened space.
She sets to pen and paper then dreams.
Recording her thoughts and soulful musings,
Light flows out across the page.

Here, where time has lost its meaning,
The wick is burning and the wax is melting.
The glow is soothing and the words are moving.
A story grows in the throes of her feelings.

I've been doing some significant editing and re-writing preceding the publication of a book. This poem took on quite a few new turns so I decided to re-post it.
Lady K Milla Sep 8

Make a wish
Another blown candle
to my so called golden year
Another wish another rotation to the same life long inauguration
When is the picket fence sent?
In blown candles of wishes after wishes
Doubt after doubt
it becomes so repetitious
When does your money grow?
In blown candles of riches after riches
Til you become so poor
you sleep under the bridges
When is love sent?
In blown out candles of loneliness
Carrying a familiar scent to its smokey extinguishment
Oh life,
Light me up instead
but not like a birthday candle
No, No
Light me like a night candle
Like the flame you wouldn't separate
from its source upon lighting

Mims Sep 8

Not many people know this,
But when I'm worried,
Or stressed about something or someone,
I light a candle,
And I pray their pain goes away.
I lit one for you,
Today,
It was scented cinnamon,
And I asked God,
"Please, just heal him quickly"
Protect him,
Give him safety.

I thought about you a lot today,
Trying to think of things to say,
the last thing you need is another person freaking out I'm sorry
Wondering if I could ever visit,
And see if you were okay.

I watched the flickering flame.
God,
Take his pain away.

The Hufflepuff friend will always worry about others safety
Lyn-Purcell Sep 7

"Are you ok? Your family, Where are they now?"
They are where they are. They follow the winds blown.
"It's so dark! Light a candle here!"
You can light six-and-twenty. Makes no difference. My heart is still dim.
"Don't say such things. You've got your whole life ahead."
Do I?
"Yes."
Would that I could join you. Would that I could be you. I'm deaf to the tolls of my caged heart.

Based on a conversation I heard over the bus.
mjad Sep 4

There is never ending pressure
To be the light in such a darkened society
But what can a candle with no wick do
Besides melt at the heat of another

Star BG Aug 29

Always there burns a candle in heart,
unaffected by rains of eyes,
or hurricane thoughts.

Always with rays of light
as my light house
guiding my waking days.

Dance oh flame dance,
like lighted torch
when I attempt to go astray.

Dance oh flame with grace
to reboot my smile
reminding me
of my precious soul
of my divine life.

inspired by ALas2
BR Belle Aug 19

To love
Is to light a candle in a dark room
And never
Forgetting to light it
Once it goes dark.
.

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