The day I died

Being Icarus: Truth, Ambition, and the Cost of Trying

The day I died, I tried to fly
I tried to speak the truth and smile
That day of sun and shine and cry
I walked alone the path of right

Of people made, a road of sand
Each step collapsed the one behind
It broke my hope, it made me shy
It took my wings, it showed me why

You want the truth—you have to lie
There’s no such thing as a straight line

You have no wings—you want to fly?!
Just think of Icarus—he tried.

There are no more stars in the night sky
I took them all, I made them mine.

I jumped to high.
I tried to fly.

A.O. Homorodean

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I’m trying to build something on Substack. This poem is about me, and about many others. Let’s hope this trying doesn’t end in burnout.