Atlas

Sometimes I lay awake at night. Thoughts going through my head, About things I’d like to write tonight.

As I toss and turn I feel like Atlas. Like I’m carrying the worlds problems on my shoulders.
I jump from one topic to another, Even though they’re different issues somehow they seem to rhyme,

Someone get me a thesaurus. 

I wrote this poem a while back about the volatility of my mind in the evenings. The burdens and the desire to act. 

A mirror but no soul

I tweet, sometimes. And on Twitter one encounters innumerable Social Justice Warriors whom happily to turn a blind eye to history when it suits their political cause.

I find this detestable. So I wrote a short poem about it:

You speak of this evil only when it furthers your cause. This evil you too have committed, a mirror would show.