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

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