Army of Candles

I scream out,
hoping someone will finally hear.

No one does.

I retreat back into my shell.
I go back to blending into the scuffed white walls.
Even though I'm wearing black.

I'll try again some other time.

Maybe if I try hard enough,
someone will hear.

Every time someone comes along,
that hears just a little,
I cherish them.

Even if they're gone in a day.

For that one day,
the darkness around me lifted,
to let a little bit of light through.

To me it seems like
the sun is shining just for me.
Even though,
if it were someone else,
They'd think it was a single candle
surrounded by dusty glass.
That candle is mine until it burns out.

I have an army of those burnt out candles.
Lights that left.
For one reason or another.
It rained,
or the wind blew a bit too hard.

I always seem to find a candle,
though I may have gone months
without that small illumination
in my world.

I remember all of those candles.
The ones that lit up my life.

They are far and few between.
How could I forget?

I know they've forgotten me,
the lonely little girl.
Who sat by the wall at lunch,
staring at the ground alone.

But for a short time,
I had a smile,
placed upon my face.
and a candle by my side.

That army of candles will always remind me
of what can be.

They remind me of my own potential,
and that I might be a candle for someone else.