Atlas Dear: a book of poems

Home

Our fathers stood amongst the clouds,
Staring down at the ground.
It all looked so perfect
So small, insignificant.
When they came downs they saw
The pain and sorrow that belonged to us all.

So they ran back to the clouds
To live in their fantasy,
While we on earth
Were left here to drown.
We drowned in our thoughts.
We drowned in our feelings.
Our fathers stood and smiled,
Ignoring all the cries we sent us to the sky.

We asked and we pleaded
Only to find
We had been left behind.
Children in the wasteland
Born just to die.
We asked and we pleaded
Only to see
We were on our own.
Children in the wasteland
We had no home.

Abandoning the sky
I turned to the sea,
Hoping that maybe there
There'd be a home for me.
But the crossed their arms,
And shook their heads.
"There's no place for you here," They said.

I asked and I pleaded
Only to find
I had been left behind.
A child in the wasteland
Born just to die.
I asked and I pleaded
Only to see
I was on my own.
A child in the wasteland
I had no home.

So I fell to the ground
And I cursed the sky.
They'd ignored my cries this whole time.
So I fell to the ground
And I cursed the sea.
They'd accepted everyone except for me.

Then you came along
And pulled me up off the ground.
You gave me your hand.
You gave me a home.
A child in the wasteland
Born just to die.
Grown in the desert.
Adopted by life.