“Fruitless Flame”
By Tiernan O’Rourke
The narrative of difficulty
Becomes the epitome
Of my journey and decisions.
An intervention is meant to be inspirational,
Yet why does mine seem demotivational?
Because if the idyllic eldest daughter can’t handle it all,
Well then, look at her fall
And observe the tragedy.
The descent from grace was valiant,
As the feat in the first place was Icarian.
The wax wings beat in the heat of the sun
And, though once a noble unit, become undone
From a mythical model to sporadic stains on the earth below,
Each drip of the wax a warning of woe:
Never try, and you’ll never know.
So though I face difficulty,
I see faces beaming up at me,
Expecting the best and preparing the stories
To be told in the wake of my absence of glory.
Because what are my words but the bones of a house,
And what is the frame without life inside,
Academic integrity to fill in the empty.
My frilly illustrious words are but a fantasy,
Perceived from the exterior to be a transportive fallacy
And inside, it is bare of scholastic integrity,
Consisting of sole sentimentality,
Elegant yet worthless substantially.
