They never tell you about the soft pain
They never tell you about the soft pain:
About the weight of a pebble among the stones.
They said destruction comes in great events:
Not in months, in years, and oh so slow.
My hands are worn from the toil.
My back is bent from scouring.
And as I look back on the life I built;
I feel the taste of success souring.
All those dreams that had fueled me
Are half realized, half forgotten.
And this future I am building
Feels empty and ill gotten.
I was never meant to make it here;
Who is here is not me.
I lost myself along this pursuit of dreams
Because I refused to see.
I did not see me breaking my bones
To form this new, foreign creature.
I did not see me carving out parts
To make room for these new features.
Wings tore themselves from my back;
The sun burned my face to ash
And I touched the sky, I never fell,
But oh—but oh how I wish I had.
A/N: Wrote this one awhile ago. When I first realized I had to start looking for a job after graduation. As I was figuring out where to apply, I started realizing that what I had envisioned as a kid, or even just 5 years earlier, was so different from what I envisioned now.
It was disorienting. Then I had a hot cocoa and watched some Disney movies to feel better. But still. Churned this out afterwards. I was always fascinated with the idea of Icarus surviving the flight.
No longer man nor a myth, but a god. Because, really, how else could he stay aloft if he flies too close to the sun with wax wings?