Weights of the world,
All of its horrors,
All of its madness,
All of its problems,
All of its stresses.
It bears down upon me,
Crushing me,
Compressing me,
My muscles inevitably fail me,
I’m not Atlas.
Cracks start to show,
I fear that I’m doomed,
Can I have a ray of sunshine?
I’m far from a titan,
I’m not Atlas.
WorldofHarley 
I like that. We all feel like that at times. Nicely composed.
Thank you kindly! Alas, you are quite correct, it is simply a part of the “human condition”.
The Oldschool Harlequin
Reblogged this on WorldofHarley and commented:
I’m Not Atlas
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