History won’t recall how he was untalented

yet free, whilst his brother was gifted and caged.

How it wasn’t death by ambition but

death by adoration. And the irony

of the salt bleached bones, the burned feather stumps.

Unworkable.

And who doesn’t want to mimic their older sibling?

Too blessed for this world, Iapyx.

Kept all that time,

in the dark.

Like the winds, he would wreak havoc 

just by his presence.

Unacceptable.

In the end, all their father’s skill and craft

made only labyrinths of torment.