Atlas

I feel the pressure of the world,
weighing on my shoulders,
pressing me to the ground so I bow to the sun,
and the moon.

We recite every word to our favorite person,
laughing at each other,
like children,
instead of with us.

Dressed in white,
blood stained feet,
an ironic virgin.

Eyes penciled in, that way I can see,
lips, colored so I can speak,
but who will fix my ears,
all the worse to hear you with.

Oh, Atlas and I,
feel each others pain, and we tell stories,
while Mother Nature rocks the weight from us,
a dying lullaby.

isitso963
amazing loved the comparison and connection to atlas.

Munia Khan
The last two stanza is smashing....Nice work.