I walk around, something on my shoulder
Must be a mountain, or a big boulder
Feeling like Atlas, carrying the sky
Fighting my worries, wanting to cry
I bend my shoulders, under the force
And scream my despair, until I’m hoarse
This entry was posted by Zardilann on May 8, 2011 at 08:00, and is filed under Poems, Writing.Both comments and pings are currently closed.
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