Shoulder

They can be a lot heavy: The Shoulder; By the dying felt like boulders; And one keeps groaning: The Carrier, As their weight become scarier! They are the parts we hold high And passers-by confront confidence We lower them and there’s “A why?... On-lookers sniffing diffidence When shoulders portray blocks, One has been frequenting the gym And if as rounded as clocks, One ceases to seem trim… Our shoulders now cry for support; A glance and you pick this report; Mostly, a tailor-woven pad: Tops without it Ancient and sad… Where scorers of goals are joyously left, The ones who squandered them never kept.