I live under candlelight

I live under candlelight

 

Too real,

I stand beneath the candles,

in the darkness of the night.

I am in an arena,

ghastly figures cheering for my death,

shadow tigers and soldiers feet away,

warded off by the warm glow,

the candles dimming,

my hour looms closer than ever.

Shaking I stand with no where to go,

I tip the candle down,

wax pours onto my hair,

oozing down burning my scalp,

one candle out.

Another turns my arms pasty and hot,

two now,

just three more left,

tiger's paw at my feet,

covered by the scent of the third candle,

hard to move now.

Fourth candle makes me still,

they sense nothing for the taste of flesh.

They go,

spears finding nothing to penetrate,

they drop to the ashen ground below.

I am alone now,

a perpetual statue,

left to live under a candle,

unfortunately the wind snuffs the last one out,

silence forever, alive on the inside,

always looking out.