was it my fault? for loving what couldn’t be reached? many people would say that it was all a tragedy. but i knew the agony i would face, i knew i would burn. yet i let you reduce me to ashes. melt my WINGS to my flesh. how could a mere human ever fly so hard by a god? the great apollo, high on his golden throne, gifted me with wings to reach for the daystar- but they were too frail, too fragile, they weren’t meant to bear your splendor. thus the strings loosened, feathers floated, fiercely burning, and melted wax scorched my skin, to forever display my pride. you never meant to hurt me, but there was nothing you could do. so you watched helplessly as i fell, fell, fell, fell into the unforgiving deep. gods called it arrogance, but I was not afraid. no, i laughed the whole way down. because even for second, my fingerprints met the sun’s, and as for all u have fallen, still i flew. flying, failing, falling.
. —modern tragedy, or the end of a triumph by expirarium