And we found freedom in the dreams of the people, but forever still eluded our grasp; dancing concepts flitting in peripheral visions and movement shining as eyelids grasp shut, but never did eternity concretely appear before our glistening eyes…

And as tears of blood roll down numb cheeks, you can’t help but look to death as a respite, though never an alternative; the unknown abyss is a scary place, and nothingness, an ungraspable concept…

And through it all, our beating hearts were all we had to tell us that we still lived; our heart deceived us, every other sense screamed out in loneliness…

And when neurological wires cross, heart, mind, and truth are skewed leaving the Imperfect nothing to cling to but our frail wings of wax and vanity…

Teach me to fly because I'm falling fast; cold unforgiving waters wait to wash away pretenses leaving my soul open to see… I can’t help but wonder, if I’d stayed behind, living evermore in cold grey stone, would I still be here… watching my destruction grow closer… waiting for the embrace to break down social walls, flooding my intonation with truth I never wanted free…

I have no gold yarn to lead me this time. No workshop to engineer my escape. All I have are these melted wings, and the pull of gravity accelerating me to make the cliché decision and let the world see my heart.

Because, in the end, we’re all Icarus, wishing only to fly higher into the dark embrace of death.