Drunk on Freedom

He built his own prison.
He created ever-changing walls—passageways that wouldn’t reveal the way out.
His mind, so intricate, so warped, created a home for those who did not deserve one.
He created a prison, and his ideas made him a prisoner.
Forced to live in the imprisonment for the Hell he created for other’s torture, he never lost hope.
Navigating through the unnavigable halls of his mind for an escape, son in tow, he wasted away.
His son, his light, the only thing he held onto. He wanted escape, for this bright soul.
And he succeeded.
He forged their means of escape.
A pair of destructible wings—only fastened for a great escape.
He created them for the purpose of release; he didn’t expect them to even get away.
Cautions were dealt, and cautions were ignored.
Daedalus flew first, paving the way to freedom.
Icarus followed.
Drunk on freedom, and open skies, Icarus decided to deviate from his father’s route.
The bright, young boy flew where he was not to go.
He carved his own way, far beyond freedom.
He pushed the boundaries of all he knew, and all he was taught.
And for a moment, euphoria was all he knew.
But it was only for a moment.
For the next feeling was of falling and the dropping of his stomach.
Icarus felt the winds hit him, his wings no longer catching them for flight.
Daedalus, already having reached the shore, watched his son frisk to close to the sun.
Daedalus, already knowing what he would witness, cried out for the light of his life.
Icarus fell in slow motion.
He grazed the tip of the sun, and cherished its burn—for he knew the repercussions.
He knew of the icy waters waiting to swallow his burnt glory.
Icarus watched the waves part for him and create an eternal home for his corpse.
What he didn’t see was his father’s soul chasing him as Daedalus’ body stay at bay.
That day the Underworld gained two souls.
The Ocean cradled a new corpse.
And a dead shell of a mortal walked the ends of the Earth aimlessly.
Daedalus watched his son be his happiest, and die drunk on it.
All in the span of a breath of freedom.
He watched as the body disappeared into the folds of the ocean.
He began to wish captivity, for his son would be with him then.
He did not like freedom, for it had killed his son.
Icarus, who never knew freedom, overdosed on its weightlessness.
Daedalus, who never believed in freedom, wished he never knew the feel of unshackled wrists.


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