My ugly candle

I have massacred my candle. Her edges all worn and irregular, one side too high up, one too low. I am afraid her melted wax may overflow, especially since I have melted my evidence in her middle. Now her wick seems to be drowning in the wax I added to hide my violent outbreak. How was I supposed to stop myself from breaking her, when all it took was a small tap? The heat of the flame did the rest.

And now there she is, her flame still strong and I feel guilty. She will never be the same again. She will never be a perfectly balanced candle, all because I could not contain myself. And she did not burn me. Who knows why. When I first lit her, her wax melted equally around her. The only thing that could have changed that was an outsider, someone careless enough to massacre her beauty. Now she is but a pretty hideous candle and it’s my fault. But I will have her burn until her end. I owe her at least that much.

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