June 13, 2015
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The sky is full of half beautiful things
A glimmering silhouette
In waxwork wings
They say a boy fell from the sky
Shrouded in feathers
And melting lye
A tomb in the stratosphere
A grave built by none
For the boy who rose too close to the sun
The prophets, the proverbs
The wise and the great
Say he was foolish
That he challenged the fates
They chided and scorned
But still, they knew
Maybe Icarus fell,

But he flew.

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