i laugh at the prospect of flight

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i miss flying.
the freedom of unleashed hubris,
the tragedy of falling,
the hearth of the ocean,
the burn of the sun.
i miss flying.
sunburned shoulders
and a back marked with melted wax,
and limbs of feathers,
destined to kill.
i miss flying.
bronze feathers
fall with my body,
cutting me more than daggers ever could,
and i laughed.
i miss flying.
and i laughed in the face of death
one last time,
and i forgot what it meant to survive
and i remembered what it meant to live.
i miss flying.
let me be one with the osprey,
let them witness my fall,
let them hear my last cry,
but i will always have the last laugh.
i miss flying.

-icarus

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