My discretion, prudence are despair.
I lit a candle to watch its flair.
It flickers, as the world does onto me.
It flames, cries beneath the ceiling fan, looks like a tree.
The wax dripped, rained my tears.
Get a grip. I tried with no cheers.
Flames would grow bright and high;
Then, WOW, the world falls and does die.
Get a grip, I tried but the evil fit,
Like the fan played its atrocious cheat!
Are the tears real, are they mine?
Whirling of world like the fan must be s sign!
It pulls and pushes you round and round.
How burned out you feel of this turning sound!
It snuffs you of every breath of night.
Fight on! Fight on! Take a grip! Do invite.
But fan whirls faster, it growls.
You lose your grips while fan howls!! …