Stacey Linehan

Watch Me Flicker

I walk through life like a candle.
I burn and melt with every rude remark
or false accusation
but still manage to stay strong.
I keep my head up and continue
to flash a convincing half hearted smile.
With failed attempts to ignore other’s judgmental thoughts,
my residues trickle down my outer shell
exposing physical proof of use.
I am flipped, twisted, almost torn apart
but I grasp tightly to the constant.
There is repose when intertwining
with the stagnant of an everyday routine.
It is astonishing how quickly
I could blow out my own candle.
One single gust of wind to the fragile flame
and the comforting light turns to smoky darkness,
where there is peace.
Why do I keep my flame flickering?
Do I like to burn in people's lies,
or is this all a competition
to see if my wick will last the longest?






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