i went to bed mad late.
i woke up mad late.
this poem is probably going to be off as hell.
but i have…23 other poems to make up for it.
atlas
in greek mythology, Atlas was a
Titan
who’s name translates roughly
into hard, enduring,
who at the end
of a great war was condemned
as a most pressing punishment
to carry the weight of the world
on his shoulders
for all of eternity
on bended knee
and stoic stance.
terra nova rests in his hands
someone needs to update
these mythological stories
add a footnote at the bottom
or something
letting interested parties know that
a little chocolate girl from cincinnati
took over for Atlas while he went
on his lunch break
she has the
weight of the world in her little hands
he hasn’t come back
and no one wants to step in
while she is sobbing salty tears
flowing from
the seven seas
i have not winced or cried aloud
the only one who put this weight
on my shoulders
was me
why did i
punish myself to be confined
frozen
on bended knee for all time
when will i ever be
sitting on top of the world
instead of my struggling
shoulders aching and shaking
underneath just trying
to keep it it balance
for everybody else
my head is blooded, but unbowed
but i can’t
trust anyone else
to handle this responsibility
the earth would shake and
the quakes would reverberate
shaking me to my core
the punishment does not
fit the crime
my sins just don’t add up
no matter how many times
i recount them
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