The wick that fuels this flame of what little hope I have left is starting to burn low, and the warmth of the light is beginning to fade from my cold skin. The once brilliant light is dying; now only a trembling flicker. The wax of the candle is spread across the floor before me, and has become hard like the shell of my empty heart. Soon there will be nothing; soon there will only be darkness. Perhaps then, there will finally be peace.


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