You're just a little wax figurine,
Stuck in that position, 
Unable to scream,
Your actions dictated and mundane,
It's hard to keep yourself from going insane.

Following the crowd,
You stumble about in a haze,
I'm so very disappointed in your cookie-cutter ways.

You try to find yourself within the scene,
Only to become more lost than before,
Finally you return to me,
I am your beacon through the storm.

No matter how bad things seem,
You can always return to your beacon.

So I stand here, amidst the battering rain,
Wind howling around me, and
I think I might be going insane,
Will you be my beacon?

The End

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