a candle flickers, overpowered by a sudden gust
a glowing ember, it considers extinguishing itself
"no, maybe i'll stay"
as it gradually returns to its listless, lifeless flame
flickering on, as if nothing had occurred
a pen's lines become intermittent marks, fading to an unnoticed ridge in an otherwise blank ocean
a ruined utensil, it contemplates resigning to a discarded fate
"i can keep going"
as it eases back into meaningless, monotonous life
an endless stream of shapeless ink
"but why do i continue"
i say as i flicker
as i catch on the page
let me torment you no more
as i fail to die
and proceed with routine
"let it be over"
but it isn't
it never is
not for a candle, a pen,
a soul not yet dead.