Poem: Soreness

My muscles are not burning,

They did that already,

They are not like meat,

They are simply wood.

Each motion driving down in the nerves,

Not pain but solid.

Later,

I shall rest these weary things,

But I have to go to the fridge for some lunch.

God,

The early parts of exercise can be hard.

But I assure you—

Reader,

It is worth it to get some time,

Where the body is in motion.

That much is worth it every time.

I love screens and technology,

But we are not made for it.

We’ve got to move sometimes.

Special thanks to: Melissa Potter

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