Icarus flew too close to the sun.
A short mistake and he was done.

I flew too close to myself.
And fell like a book from a shelf.

The page that opened showed the stupid boy,
in his last moment of blinding joy.

Within me it is dark,
Only sometimes there´s a spark.

From someone flying with me,
Over an endless sea.

I wish I could have met him,
felt his sunburned skin.

Maybe then, I would have known,
That I am not alone,

When writing of the pain I dealt,
And all the hurt I felt.

Icarus like a foolish dove,
Knows how it is to love.