sometimes i feel like Atlas,
holding up the sky
but mine's not made of stars and clouds
rather I
shoulder a world of disappointment
as i let myself down
sometimes i am like Prometheus
playing with fire
my mind and body plagued
by endless desire
as it crushes my hopes and dreams
sometimes I am Icarus
though i know he falls
honestly i'd prefer wax jointed wings
if i could fly higher than these walls
that i built myself
sometimes i feel for Orpheus
as doubt invades my mind
turning to look back
just to see what's mine
be gone forever.
