Atlas

On top of the world is
how you left me every time you
touched me every time you saw me
every time you spoke to me I was high
flying until I was free falling and then
I went from on top of the world to under
neath it all, my own personal Atlas-task,
ground into dust at your feet. I’m fairly
sure that you knew you were my all, my
everything. I don’t think I let it escape
you that I would’ve done anything
for you. You were my world,
but also too heavy for
me.

About Catastrophe Jones

Wretched word-goblin with enough interests that they're not particularly awesome at any of them. Terrible self-esteem and yet prone to hilarious bouts of hubris. Full of the worst flavors of self-awareness. Owns far too many craft supplies. Will sing to you at the slightest provocation.
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