The candle is lit, the light reflects off my body giving it a shine brighter than the moon on its darkness night. I watch the door knobs to see if it moves; I put my hand over the light. I let it burn so that my flesh could fall off my skin hoping to feel something.  Yet nothing happens. I ripped my bed sheet because I stood, then I sat on top of bed trying to cry because I can’t; the rule is don’t cry no matter who you are. The rule has sunk into my soul twisting my thoughts. My ears bleed, my eyes are blind, and my tongue is tasteless. It was the next morning and I lit the candle once again.
—I’m am restless