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.
Dec 18, 2024
Dec 18, 2024 at 10:26 PM UTC
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.
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