Thought Abyss - Lost In My Head

it snows

I've always liked the idea of being Icarus, just for that one burning moment of flames and falling and agony and wax running like angels' blood, 

Of watching your world catch fire, of blinding defeat, of bitter triumph.

I always imagine his limp body twitching, like a fish thrown out of the water. 

And the irony of it reflects like sunbeams on the surface of the ocean as he drowns, gasping for air. 

I always imagine him pale. 

All Colour drained from his face, so much he looks sort of an angel himself. 

And he must've been one for all angels have to endure some pain. 

I imagine he looks beautiful. Beautifully pained. But even so, beautiful. 

But beauty always comes with a price tag attached. 

And in all his agony, Icarus flew to the clouds, 

Hoping to maybe see the silver lining in it all. 

Even today the world still burns under our soles from the memories of his demise. 

It snows to cool the searing earth and alleviate itself of some of its own anguish. 

Because what is snow, if not the feathers of angels, hoping to bandage bruises it inflicted on its own progeny. 

For Icarus was just one tormented child. 

And the world has seen many of his kind. 

Rivers full only with the tears of its children. 

It snows to write them all an eulogy in sheer white. 

It snows to bury the truth in layers and layers of its bulk. 

.