There once was a rat, a gym rat that is
When it came to fitness he was a wiz.

Powder and chicken was all he consumed.
All of the other foods were surely doomed.

Ripping, rushing, running around the town.
He liked to pick things up and put them down.

From his traps to calves, his muscles were ripped.
Pushing and pulling, the scales he would tip.

His veins did pop like pink birthday balloons.
His buns resembled big-***** baboons.  

Many beads of sweat would drip down his face.
Gallons of water he’d drink case by case.

Visions of protein shakes danced through his head.
Others that trained with him soon would be dead.

The rat would pump iron day after day.
But, out of the gym his life was astray.

White tank tops, jean shorts, and sneaks he would wear.
In hopes that all the fit ladies would stare.

Alas poor gym rat could not catch a mate.
Perhaps, a brain workout would score him a date.