I was Born with wax wings on a cloud to close to the sun,

trapped on this fragile platform which grows smaller as the days go on,

sooner or later I’ll have to risk flying, trying to fight the fear ov falling, crashing and burning..

the sun’s daring me to take flight.. my fright amuses him..

his smile widens increasing the temperature…glaring at my wings knowing at sum point he will win..

I too glance at my sorry excuse for wings,

underdeveloped more like stumps..

more cherubim than archangel.. would they even support my frame in flight?

can I even fly? i try 2 suppress the thought…

as the last sands in the hourglass in the life of this fragile cloud drop….

feeling like a trapdoor opens up …and the sun roars with laughter..

like some fat caesar sentencing me 2 the lions..

I try flapping these poor excuses for wings….

but the melting wax stings my bare back.. and dissolve into nothing…

the sun wins..

now in freefall I give my soul to the earth …

burning through the atmosphere….

a falling angel approaching REBIRTH…


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