A new epoch greets us
Almost imperceptibly, it mocks me
The thought of change is nauseating
I am filled to the brim with an endless daunting feeling
My worries shall rest on the shoulders of mountains
For I am no Atlas,
Frailty runs through me like nectar in the throats of gods
Tell the Oracle this distressed damsel spins the same woeful tale every year
Whatever prophecy awaits me won’t have to hold its breath
For alas, my fear is yet to surrender
Jan 9, 2019
Jan 9, 2019 at 11:39 AM UTC
A new epoch greets us
Almost imperceptibly, it mocks me
The thought of change is nauseating
I am filled to the brim with an endless daunting feeling
My worries shall rest on the shoulders of mountains
For I am no Atlas,
Frailty runs through me like nectar in the throats of gods
Tell the Oracle this distressed damsel spins the same woeful tale every year
Whatever prophecy awaits me won’t have to hold its breath
For alas, my fear is yet to surrender