A TWISTED TALE OF ICARUS AND THE SUN

Icarus if you knew us being together could burn your wings, why you flew near me? If I warned you and told you to stay away, why you took the risk? Why didn’t you listen? Now that your wings are catching fire, making a mixture of feathers and wax, you blame it on me, when everything I did was for your own good and safety; to protect you. Even when you didn’t belong to my universe, you forced yourself to be part of it. Everyday you were more and more blinded by your obsession that you didn’t realize I was suffering too. Thinking I was the cause of your pain made me feel vulnerable and guilty. Then numbness took over my brightness, creating cloudy days for those who were peacefully enjoying shiny spring days. You didn’t care, because the only thing that mattered to you was to create an image to impress others by saying you reached and touched the sun, but when your plan didn’t turned out the way you wanted, you decided to make the whole situation look like it was my fault just because you couldn’t face the consequences of your actions. As soon as you could, you acted like the most hurt creature but, Icarus, we both know losing your wings wasn’t the cause of your pain, it was having to hide your weakness with your pride. Oh it was consuming you alive. Even in your fake misery you didn’t care if my rays were as bright as before. I started to orbit around faded stars and planets who were losing their colors while you were living in one covered in lies. I warned you but you didn’t listen because you always hear what you wanna hear and look at you now, walking barefoot on a lonely desert, not being able to move around the sky like a fish in the ocean and poisoned by the stung of a black predatory arachnid. I told you, you shouldn’t have played with fire because you always get burned. Looks like your wings weren’t the only things made out of wax Icarus, because now your conscience is burning and melting your whole self down.

                                                     -Sun