The Day burns like a candle

The house is filled with music. Bass off the speakers make the wine glass shake. The beat is echoed throughout the whole house. Bouncing off the walls. Yet I don't care.

I sit in the other room, listening to this music, typing. For some reason my face is hot with anticipation of what might go on next. What will happen. I stand on the edge waiting. Will someone complain about the noise or will I just be perfectly fine.

I spread candles to each of the room. They slowly burn as the day goes by so fast it seems. Everyday seems like this. As fast as a candle goes down its wick. Yet it seems like there is always another day after eachother. Many candles wait in a line to be burned. They wait to be mine and to finally be over with. Their job is just to sit and watch. Sit and Wait. Wait to be the one.

My typing seems to go with the beat. I type along with it. The upbeat fast pace. That just makes me feel like getting up and dancing.

My fingernails match my eyes.. silver with sparkles. It lightens up this place. I feel special and sparkled. Like no one else is. Because every sparkle is different. You can't find one that is exactly the same as another one. Just like me. I am different and special. I show my sparkles everyday.

I come back to thinking about the music within this room. I just want the music to be loud. To drown out everything. So i can feel that i am hundreds of miles away from here. At a party or somewhere else. Somewhere I can feel like a sparkle.

But I am here.

Waiting

Anticipating

On the Edge