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The two boys run. They run and run and run until they reach the top of the world
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What happens when they get there? you ask
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They fall.
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No, you say That's too sad, you say. But if, when you hit rock bottom the only place left to go is up, then the opposite must be true of touching the sky.
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What goes up must come down.
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It must feel like flying, at first, but then the pull in your gut gets too strong and you realize, no it's not a trick of the light.
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My wings are on fire, the wax melting burning my skin like Icarus.
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I'm falling.
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I'm burning up and falling out of the sky.
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It was worth it.
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How? you ask How was it worth it, you failed, you fell.
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Yes I fell, but I fell grasping for the thing I most desired in the world and then watched that world burn from the center of the flames.
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There is a cruel satisfaction infalling when you should be flying.
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There is a cruel delight in taking the world with you.
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