He was worried for my well-being, but I insisted he not touch the bar, with a Heart of gold, adrenaline pumping, he watched from afar. Is the boy simply naive?! What is the boy trying to achieve? A crushed jugular for the sake of juicy biceps that fill the sleeve. To hell with you boy, please give it a rest! The man thought internally as the boys effort given was his best. One rep, two rep, three rep…that’s enough, call it a set…but the boy did not listen as he mustered a heavy sweat. Damn you, the man screamed inside his head, as the boy grunted and thrusted on his potential death bed. Your arms grow weak, is death worth being a freak, that one more rep won’t make your physique.

Destined for failure or destined for gold, the boy have not the patience to grow old…the set would dictate the boys future foretold. I don’t wish to be like you old man…I will rise to greatness or crash my face in the sand. I’m not afraid to fail the boy internally shout..but as his arms grow weaker, so did the doubt….was the old man even real or was he a symbol…is my body indestructible, is it nimble? One rep, two rep, three rep…do I rack the weight and call it a set…or do I carry on a risk my fate being met. Perhaps I shall rack the weight for another day…if I could see the old man now, what would he say? Would he be proud? Would he say I’ve done well….or would he say I quit just as my tissues began to swell? Damn you old man, damn you straight to hell…my mindset has faltered and is now but a shell.

Weeb