The conflict between wax and the sun

Wax.
It's born beautiful and depressing.
It melts and damages easily.
But in the end, it always cools or gets molded back into place.
It collects dust and dirt everywhere it goes.
It never seems to go away.
In reality, I'm wax.
I can feel both beautiful and depressed.
I melt away and get damaged easily.
But someone always comes to mold me back together.
One day,  I tried to fly without fear to fall.
But I went up to high.
I touched the sun, in hopes to add a little light in my life.
But then I melted.
Because I'm made of wax.