If my muscles could tweet,
they’d start a twitter revolution,
calling on the international community
to stop the senseless torture
I put them through.
But they can’t tweet.
I made sure of that.
So again I head out for a run,
drowning out their anguished cries
with the tunes on my running playlist.
After about 5K, my muscles are
in so much pain,
they cannot scream anymore.
I push a bit further, but find myself
tired from breaking their resistance.
It’s enough for today.
Maybe a bit of rest for them and me,
so we can have a fresh start
the day after tomorrow,
and see how long we last then.
This poem was also submitted on the Open Link Night in the dVerse Poet’s Pub.
By the way: don’t forget you still have a chance to become part of my dream about my first poetry book. Be a co-funder and get some awesome perks in return!

You had me laughing from the starting line! And what fresh torture do you have planned for your muscles tomorrow? A tongue-in-cheek perspective, and probably a good strategy for overcoming that pain barrier.
Thanks, Samuel! And indeed, thinking about this poem, creating it, was my motivation during that run. The torture for tomorrow is going to be extraordinary again.
haha…love the playful opening on this…muscles tweeting…smiles….best wishes on the exercise…nice build too on being tired from breaking their resistance…
Thanks Brian. I had to admit that tiredness. It’s not easy torturing your own muscles… *evil grin*