You asked me how someone so kind, could be so sad

How could I constantly have felt so bad?

I described to you the truth of what they didn’t tell you about Icarus’s fall

I told you how his skin burned, and the moment the wind starting pushing downward on him,

the freedom he felt

The intake of breath, the weight taken off of his lungs,

The knowingness that you can never truly fly if you never truly fall

They don’t tell you how burnt out Icarus truly was and while the wings guaranteed free fall- that never meant failure

I told you they teach it like a tragedy,

the genius never got his happy ever after

But he got one too fitting,

he never went out in glory

He went out gory,

Gritting his teeth and feeling the sun,

and the burn of the salt in the sea, in every open wound he could never see ,

how he plummeted into that inky black abyss

His sleeves ran red, his heart poured out and he finally felt bliss

How much he gained when he lost his doubt

The best way to describe who I am,

Was to describe the end of a tragedy,

from a different point of view.

Because only in our weakest points,

our darkest falls,

our leaps from grace

Do we every really find our face