Weight
I can’t remember lifting a weight
Without having to for some time wait,
Eyes on The Monster to round it skate
And briefly ponder over Man’s fate…
I can never love, rather should hate
Whomever remembers me, next Weight
And dares me to prove a prowess great:
Say, the lifting of rods in a crate:
“This could be a set-up: Satan’s Bait!
Sure, a guy who wants to hear I’m late,”
It’s a weight that still far is the date,
When one shall open tears-drying gate,
Gaps bridge of the ones given by mate;
Speeding up things still at a slow rate…
A weight when things haven’t reached the state
For ending one’s writing on kid’s slate.
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