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you are the sun on my wings    the very thing that will cause me to fail   the heat of your smile melts the wax of my feathered wings   i am icarus you helios   
The saying goes                        “Don’t fly to close to the sun” You’ll only burn yourself in the end                         It was just too good to be true Isn’t that what they say? Or did the luck
Bright-Star Apollo rocking out on stage Pulling moth-boy Icarus into his light.   Young eyes drip wax. Falling for his muse, there is no use.  
He was looking at me with a hunger in his face that boys like me learn to ignore as soon as we can climb a tree. I have never climbed a tree. I was curious.   “What are you
I lie in distant planes of a lost timeAnd my groans and sighs echo against the stones at my feet.For two waxen demons sit on my shoulderssAnd have grown too heavy for my frame.A wing made of wax cannot be folded;Neither can it bear the weight of I
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