Hands of the immortals

Hands of the immortals:

Lifted, lifted high, not too high or thy might fall. Upon pedestals you are upheld for they think you can shine, shine like you could be their protector.

Fed by the hands of the immortals, the very same hand you’d bite the first time, you’d bite every time.

I’ve watched those pedestals crumble and tumble, much like Icarus the moment he flew too close to the sun, one wrong move and suddenly you hit the ground. A sort of crimson that comes from inside.

I’ve felt that faux love from the same hands, a rush of joy turns into a sharp stab of betrayal.

Tried to grab the hands of Icarus as he fell, but he crashed too hard, plummeted too fast. Slipped through your fingers, like most things do. But that’s a mistake that matters, a moment to unravel in your head, a glimpse of time you can’t change.

Cause the actions of others should not fall upon you, the words of those too blind to see your truth should not curse you.

And the hands of the immortals should not hold you to a blind eye,

You, yourself should hold thyself up to such prosperity,

not to be fed such lies,

by the hands of the immortals.