Thy naked flesh,
O' so beautiful-
Kissed by the moon,
Tickled by the stars,
Their light shines off thee,
Wet to the touch,
Salty to the taste,
Marred by the stain of sin,
From my crimsoned lips

When a creator’s ability meets an end,
And their fabled angelic muse is no longer a friend,
They look high and low,
Scouring through grass and dirt and sometimes even snow,
To bring back that gift
That left their life with an unimaginable rift.

As the King sat parked, slumped deep into his throne,

His eyes ever vigilant, aimed at the open walkway ahead,

His orders barked at his royal guards, as his paranoia grew.

As I am Standing in front,
Of my full body mirror,
Mind filled with questions,
"Did my pecks get bigger?
I did 100 of each push up,
And maximum pull ups"
"Are my Abs more defined?
I did 90 minutes of;
Holds, planks, Twists, crunches,
I even did 30 minutes of Stretching and Yoga."

I stand there,
Immediately after doing,
All this exercise,
My Demons ask the questions,
Then pull apart my answers.
Not because they can,
Because we all know,
I let them.
But they attended,
The public school of media,
I'm ashamed of how I look.

So I'm checking.

Maybe one day,
I won't feel the need.