Bitter Triumph.
Like a wreath,
your head is hung.
This life was brief,
it came undone.
A flair of pain,
up your spine.
A muttered prayer,
is it time?
A rapid breath,
it does no good.
For your brain,
it's misunderstood.
Trapped in this body,
wrapped in this skin.
A familiar melody,
no means to bargain.
'This is it,'
you hear yourself say.
'I'm going to die,
its time anyway.'
With knees holding,
your broken frame.
With chest heaving,
a refuse to tame.
Golden feathers,
a burst of light.
This is it,
you will take flight.
With wings unfurling,
a feeling of stirring.
An ache in your heart,
a wish not to part.
A desperate plea,
a line heard before.
You are not free,
stuck in metaphor.
Two legs dart,
across the floor.
You cannot run,
anymore.
Eyes search,
for an escape.
There is no way,
this is your fate.
Shaking limbs,
retreat without cation.
Words are spoken,
ones with warning.
Danger screams,
from the chasm below.
The darkness is calling,
do you wish to go?
Wings spread wide,
feathers reaching far.
The cost of your pride,
will leave you with scars.
With a flap,
of golden plumes.
You take flight,
and assume.
The sun will be,
as of now.
Reaching it's peak,
you had better watch out.
The sun watches you,
with anger.
As your arrogance,
is key.
This is your doing,
by the hand of thee.
Wings soar,
with stupidity higher.
Flames outreach,
growing brighter.
Fire scorches,
the golden ruffles.
A sudden gasp,
a feeling of struggle.
The sun watches you fall,
without sorrow.
Unlike him,
you won't rise tomorrow.
With one last piece,
of ebbing strength.
Lifting your hand,
falling the length.
You reach out,
to the sky.
For this is it,
your last goodbye.
Your heaven was brief,
like the tears in your eyes.
It brings you no grief,
for this is no lie.
You hear yourself laugh,
as you fall.
If this is the end,
and the meaning of all.
Your voice will be heard,
as you descend.
How you lived everyday,
not for pretend.
Your fate is sealed,
like pandora's box.
Trapped down here,
in this paradox.