by Chimera

>>cold, wax, unheard, downward, ooze

It's getting cold in this dark maze of desolate despair that I boldly wander further into.
The wick in this wax candle dwindles at every corner I choose to follow, with a tormented scream unheard by no others than the walls around me.
And as the flame, my transparent beacon of hope, burns downward, the ooze of the melted candle drops to the floor, staining the paths behind me. The flame is smothered by darkness, there is no going back, only blindly moving forward into nothingness, with nothing but time, to find an escape.

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Left By: Chimera

Thank you, its nice to see when people enjoy your writing:)

Left By: cain

I love your vivid descriptions, and the grave tone of this piece.