The day sets, but the sun still shines around them,

A glorifying experience.

When they look down, however, and their eyes focus,

They'll notice that it was just a flame, a flickering candle.

But, for now, they live in the light, and who are we to take that away from them?

Always giving up a piece of yourself, ensuring the happiness of others,

your heart becomes an abyss for all that went wrong, all that was wrong, all that they never realized wasn't right.

You're stuck below the ever flickering flame of the candle, whose wax is now you,

melting away from the heat, the pressure, all to ensure that the light perseveres.

Stuck in the chasm, the increasingly sunken valley that still, over all else, holds the wick,

you realize more about yourself than you ever will about them.

You realize that you, the wax beneath the flame, you are the reason for the candle's appeal.

The wick gives off the light, but the wax beneath it is the aroma, the scent that the flame-lighters seek.

You are not the flame, nor the wick. Your heart is not just another hole, another cavity that will never be filled up, empty without a purpose.

You are the backbone to your relationship with your surroundings. Without you, the wick burns within seconds.

Don't let the flame burn you.

You keep the light going, glowing; you illuminate the way.