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.