16 ene 2015, 21:57

Premature Flight 

  Poesía » Otra
1257 0 0

 

Cut my wings before I'm high
Are you my Daedalus?
We're not mature enough to fly.
I'm not your Icarus.
I'd rather be the liver
of Prometheus,
not himself who did deliver
hope to those oblivious
and misusing now his fire

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