A small flame dances on the end of a wick.
Casting shadows of demons on the wall.
The small flame flickers to the movement of the jet streams in the air.
The room. Small, but ever so big to the flame, stands still.
Death never emotionless.
The silent room talks wall to wall, kills me, keeps me entertained.
My pocket watch ticks in the distance, ticking away to its death.
Just as everything created ticks away.
But who cares.
A small flame stands tall on the end of a small wick.
Casting shadows of angels on the wall.
The small flame fades to the movement of the jet streams in the air.
The room. Small, but ever so empty to the flame, stands light less.
A smile smirks across my face as i watch the flame die out.
This will never be the end.
Death emotionless.
Life Eternal.
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