Essentially She Burns -Aka- Always Fuel Well Spent Poem by eve Taylor

She lights herself,

day after day,

night after night,

sometimes light,

sometimes bright,

sometimes hard to see,

cause you see,

it's actually quite a tax,

her soul often weeps,

candle wax,

seeping out,

essentially,

her most to blame,

after all,

she is her own flame,

burning away,

melting away,

for years and years,

high's and low's,

isn't that funny,

how flames always go?

Fueled higher by dusty debris',

yet so low and slow,

in sweetly blowing breezes,

always disposing necessary fuel,

while not caring for,

ending's consumption.