As if she were to be surrounded by her friends.
She helps aids them with her light,
As they hold her in their hands.
Her light can be bright,
As if she were to be ranting
Rubbish she found so neat.
How bright as she illuminates
A room, yet she goes unappreciated
By the people who occupy it.
Her light can be dull,
As if she were to be abandon
By the people she still loves.
Slowly being forgotten as
New modern electricity begins
To take over what she knew as the
World.
Her light can flicker,
As if she were to be overwhelmed
By people, like
When the breeze dances
Through the room.
Trying to maintain a
Stable glow.
Her light can go out,
As if she were to be oblivion
By her toxic environment.
The pollution sailing through any
Cracks and openings.
Making her suffocate
With the lack of fresh air.
She is a bedside candle light,
Others will use her til she
Burns up.
Yet there are people who
Are going to relight her flame
Because they don't need her to see
How bright she truly can be.
--Nabryalu F., 9th-12th Grade