Icarus and The Sun

Blinding warmth is never a gift. 

No matter how badly wanted,

Sadly taken,

Or madly stolen.

Looks that melt the pain along with the pleasure.


Don’t fly too close to the Sun

But did he listen? No.

For melting away is just a small price to pay

To mingle with the girl fused with the Sun.

This poem is about: 


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