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the tale of a misunderstood
boy who flew too high~
desiring the sun; he outstretched for the carnelian painted distant sky,
his wax stitched wings; as they set ablaze
touched the earth like molten remnants of his distant trials
but flickering flames could barely render him kaput,
as he threw his head backwards and beamed at the paradise
Icarus fell; but he welcomed the fall
with his god like self-pride
YOU ARE READING
Throes of Spring ✔️
Poesía[FEATURED] godhood is just like girlhood: a begging to be believed
