Torch Poem by Sky Welch

White consumes the halls, then the tone sounds and the halls become littered with an assortment of colors and hues. The push and shove of impolite torches in this false light. The torches have dimmed. Can you see it? Soon no one will know nor remember when that torch flickers out. I am a torch too. My flame is not as bright as the others. Soon no one will remember my existence either, and these white halls will be littered no more.