Icarus

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Like a Greek lad from long ago, a young man

     jumps, or falls, to the pavement below,

           never to laugh love burn again.

A lover/mother/father/brother, mad with grief,

is left with the question no one can answer.

     

A short, sad tale without a moral:​ Like sparks

     from a fire, we are born, rise upward, and expire.

The way it always has been, always will be,

till someone, or something, banks the fire.

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