The Clouds

They stand above me,

Protect me from the sun

And the eternal abyss around it.

They keep my paper-thin skin,

Like slivers of porcelain,

Safe from the harsh fiery blaze up in the sky.

 

Some people feel

Dreary,

Dragged down,

Dull and tired,

When these giants loom overhead.

I find peace. 

 

Some days I find leaving my house difficult.

To face the world and the many pairs of judgmental eyes,

Can some times seem an impossible feat

But Zeus sends the clouds over

And I feel grounded

And safe.  

This poem is about: 
Me
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 

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