Light up a dark room
Or burn down the whole thing-
The choice is yours.
Coming from poverty
Is not a prelude to corruption,
Broken families don’t singularly serve as the substrate
For a broken life-
It is only paraffin.
Cards dealt,
Not destiny secured.
In the end He will not ask us
What brand of paraffin was used
Or how fairly it was distributed
But only what we did
With the flame it produced.

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