I had the idea to footrace a cheetah
And beat the poor bastard while drunk on tequila.
I scaled the slope to summit Mount Everest
Without any rest. The climb was effortless.
I bench press one thousand and squat like a million.
I spar with Spartans. I’m Achilles of the Iliad.
With ease I wrest Hercules to the deities’ floor,
And hurl him down through Uncle Hades’ door.
My body: A callous, honed mass of muscle,
A tour-de-force yet emotionally subtle.
Because I am man, thus strong I am,
Born of the stoic, stolid, and masculine clan.
I know, emotions are needless signs of weakness
That hinder the maintenance of practiced indifference.
I learned not to cry when I learned how to walk.
About my emotions, I know never to talk.
I’ll never delve down deep beneath their surface
And fight feelings serpents, for I see no purpose.
With resolve I dammed my souls’ rising waters.
The levees yet hold, though this faith faintly falters.