99 CANDLES

By Biara

99 candles line the churchyard floor.

98 flicker for every forgotten war.

Burn, burn, burn, burn.

Nostalgia sets in as we reach 94.

95, 96—

and they all rush to light more.

Please, damn you, stop!

So much blood, so much gore.

But they won’t listen to us—

our screams drowned in the roar

of the 5 new candles,

whose embers already soar.

99 candles, just like before.

98 new wounds, each open and sore.

When they burn, we burn,

though I can't say what for—

But find me at the very first candle,

cupping a reminder, glowing poor.

#darkpoetsclub