Started with a candle straight tall and bright.
In a world full of darkness void of a guiding light.
I can't count the times that the flame burned my hand.
I guess that is easy to do when your candle is lit at both ends.
Dripping my day's as if there is no cost for tomorrow.
Building my pile of good times, wrong turn's and sorrow.
Stalking the shadow's, i feel the eye's follow me, stealing secret's.
Selling peice's of my soul, for comforts of the flesh, and boundless regret's
You bring regret to life in this poem. I can identify with that. Sigh.....
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
only one life jack, no rehearsals, good write