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"Don't fly too close to the sun, or too close to the sea."
Those were the last words my father said to me.

He created my wings,
My wings of wax,
That allowed me to soar and see things i could never have fathomed before.

I pity the fool now.
Oh, how he would laugh in my face if he knew of my fate.
As he never knew how i came lifeless on the sand.
And how his final words that passed my ears would be my vice.

I fell in love, with the god of the sun,
Whose light could melt my wings of wax.
So he stayed away.

But my desire ran to deep,
I flew too close to my sun,
My wings of wax melted beneath me and i fell down.
Right down.

But what they fail to mention, in the stories of my twisted fate,
Is that i didn't fall down to earth.
No.
I flew.

When my wings of wax melted,
I threw my head back and laughed.
Because as long as i got held by my love,
My sun,
My Apollo.
It would have been worth it.
they say when one door closes, another one opens.
so why am i standing outside the first door?
screaming, crying, begging...

leaving claw marks on the hinges.
why do i stand beside it with a crowbar, attempting to pry it back open over and over again?

its like im trying to prove to everyone that i am not weak.
i can get this door open.
your idea of perfect is a girl with blonde hair, so when you say that you like me i look at you with a confused stare. i'd always wanted highlights - i used to hate that my hair was dark brown. i used to wish to be blonde, like i used to wish my hair was straight when i wore it down.

i used to wish for a lot of things - like not being the last choice, like not being afraid of public speaking and being more comfortable with my voice. like always being perfect, like always being completely okay. like always giving the benefit of the doubt, but you know what? i'm tired today.

your idea of perfect is a girl that looks absolutely beautiful but nothing like me. and that kind of perfect is something i will never be.
chelsea cj Nov 2024
The sunlight bounced of the windows in a way that not even me or Bryon could find a way to describe.

— The End —