A candle, flickering alone, in a place where the wind blows strong.
What greater struggle than to remain a light among the constant forces of dark?
I've let my candle bend and adapt in ways it should not go.
And have told myself that it was the only way to go forward, so
I must deal with the broken candle.
I must live with the memories of the burn.
I will remember all the times I danced so close to the darkness, tiptoeing the line between good and evil.
I will remember all the times I tried to take control when it was never my decision to make.