Closer to the Sun

This is the result of resentment. Anger. Insult paid. Pain. Heartache. Confusion. Inferiority. Karma delivered.

When the brightest things are overshadowed,
overwhelmed, overfelt, understood,
that's when I need it the most;
that omnipresent beating thing within,
no matter how it's writhing, squirming, devouring itself.
When release is impossible,
no matter how many screams I tear from my hollows,
Years of delusions, lies and abrasions, intrusions,
instructions not in-f*****g-cluded.
I recall all too well the reasons I couldn't say no.
And can I eclipse the past with the present?
Or will I find myself like Icharis,
soaring closer to the sun, burnt from trying
to compensate for the clouds you've strewn my life with?
Melted from the oppressive heat, a slave to backlash?
Am I to be reprimanded for my mistakes so cruelly?

Yeah, Karma's a b***h.