dreamdemon01

waxy candle. the match is struck and the inky blackness is lifted. we wander through the darkness, the light as our shield. it protects us: our waxy candle. the red, the yellow, our wick burns bright with inspiration. as we venture on, the flame dims. the darkness reaches out with its suffocating grip: its first attempt to drown the hues. however, we fight. the light we've found feels like coming up for air. we can't be drowned in this ocean again. so we fight. but the dark is too strong... our red goes black, and the only thing that's left is the darkness we always have inside.