Blowing Out The Past

I reach down into the hot wax and though it burns up my skin I ignore;
Listening to the ticking in the back of my head as it tocks,
Creating such operas and symphonies even if they're all broken records.
Pull out that little black light that tinkers and blips on my radar,
Making such an awful noise when I am trying to sleep alone in my bed.

My trembling calm lips form an O,
Blowing out the painful fire of the light;
Don't let anyone see the single tear that falls.