This pressure, so many faces
Its building from so many places
Sitting in the dark; a single candle
Searching for a purpose, to find its handle
“We could be anything” That is what was said
To the mind of a youth whose dreams were being fed
Adulthood came and all things tarnished
A candle left burning, into smoke it’ll vanish
The pressure is is building, no time to relax
It seems all things are reduced to piles of wax