Beside the flickering light of the candle,
the vial of tears rested like a dream unrequited;
Waiting for the thoughts to flow out,
and form gleaming words by the candlelight.
The feather quill soaked in my tears,
carved the black words in the crimson light;
Till the words bled through the parchment,
unveiling the melancholy of my soul.
The wax melted as the night grew older,
but the vial of tears failed to cease;
The heart filled with words came to a halt,
as the quill grew jaded and the thoughts became numb.
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