A flower shot up into the sky

And drifted lazily to the floor

A back of broken brittle wires

That pulls and twists, like tangled fires

Hold the flame and capture light

As it drips along the candlestick

And they danced and danced

Until their shoes were worn

And their feet couldn't take anymore

Inches apart but miles away

In that moment of a professed fantasy

That prophesied the courts were a quarter

But theirs was seldom lit

Their chests are bleeding with nothing to show

For the pain that only they can know

Bullet ridden he will be healed

And the marsh was left in the fire

Accented and driven

Close to the point of a barren edge

Knife hollowed and lids are heavy

But that flower had never left.