Apollo and his tan

Here I sit...

Underneath the glory of my sunshine...

But I'm about to throw a fit...

For I am in a bind!


I cannot catch a tan,

For even though I am a god,

The sun is not a fan...

But I still have a killer bod...


So back to the sky I go,

for up there it seems I'm more liked

It seems as if the sky is a foe!

Look upon me as if I'm a kite... 

This poem is about: 
Our world


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