Flickering Clarity

I found it again, buried beneath dust,

its body frail, like a whisper of rust.

The beam flickers, a pulse in the night,

it struggles to pierce through the thickening fright.

Each blink feels like holding my breath too long,

a half-hearted answer to a deep, haunting song.

I grip it tighter, as shadows invade,

this flashlight, my thoughts—both flickering, frayed.