CANDLE

The embodiment of hecatomb

Burns its own self,

And dispels the darkness,

It's wavy fragile flicker

Is like a mini morning sun.

The flame vanishes as the wind speaks.

The wax, it drips exquisitely

As pearly drops in unique designs

The wick that stands in the middle

That's what is making all this happen.

Being a candle isn't easy,

Has to burn itself,

In order to give mirth to others.

A candle is always personified,

For good persons,

As they always hurt themselves

To witness grin on others' face.