The Burning Candle - Poetry

The fall of faith,
Right down the center,
To the depths of terrors,
In the circle of running life.

The son of darkness,
Born of molten wax,
Sprinting through the fire,
To an end far supposing.

The king of the land,
Assumed the power for all,
Inviting an entity,
That was much to be feared.

Conning the innocent,
Stripping them of their power,
A joke to be laughed,
Riches to be exploited.

Flying through a dream,
Wishing happiness,
For all but mostly,
To be present at least once for self.

The craddling train,
Inviting a dream that was finally fulfilled,
Only to be pulled back into reality,
To live with the bleak truth.