Sitting in the darkness with nowhere to turn,
I find a little candle yearning to burn.
The hope of a flame or even a spark,
Cause all my fears to slow and to park.
I look around at all of the others,
I cry because they are burning but mine won’t bother.
Why does it have to be this way?
I want so much to burn some day.
My little wick is beginning to fade,
It will surely disappear and in the wax I will wade.
Until I find a match to start my fire,
I remain alone in the darkness, hanging by a wire.
–Written in Middle School–