Sisyphus

You are my rock

And I am Sisyphus.

We share sizes and blue eyes;

I am bound to you.

 

You are my rock,

with a mind of shale you prise

for the fool’s gold beneath;

I return to you. 

 

I am Sisyphus,

punished for cruelness bequeathed,

unused, yet still it still implies;

I am victim to you.

 

You are my rock,

Dear Mother, our blood centralized

and bored, cannibalized, long deceased;

Yet I am Sisyphus.

This poem is about: 
Me
My family
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 

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