WARNING:This poem has the substitute word for unaliving. If you don't like that, then look at a different project! If not, look below.
In the midst of everything, Five candles shine bright. Four, of which are called hope, Happiness, love, calm, Are doused. The last one, Created of pure evil, Remains. The candle called chaos. The fire of it spreads everywhere, It’s sparks reaching the clouds, It’s smoke consuming every inch. In a matter of minutes, It is too late to be stopped. It has already taken over. The land is burnt, The animals are dead, The fire reigns in terror, And yet, In the midst of everything, One spark of the four remains. One combining all the four, But only one part shines through. That spark, Is hope.
