Atlas

take these mountains from my shoulders 

roll them down into boulders  

rub smooth these stones 

they crush my fragile bones   

take away the swirling sand  

this grinding grit I cannot stand  

turn it all into dust   

these things I leave in your trust. 

Fly, little bird, fly away 

take these rocks so far away   

these problems in your grip are so small I see  

yet they weigh so heavily down on me  

build your nest  

just like the rest 

on another's jagged side 

leave me here with my wounded pride  

I am the one you shouldn't trust

swaying with every single gust

trembling,

 I fall. 

for I was never your Atlas  

after all.