I pick up the weight because I want more than muscles,

a frame that says I showed up and did the work.

Heavy feels good.

Heavy feels like purpose.

Steel in my hands and collected air in my lungs, the cold metal whispers do it again and I listen

But for now this beat holds me together.

My arms shake, my lungs tighten,

but the bar moves anyway because I refuse to quit.

Heavy feels good.

Heavy feels like purpose.