They say that strength is in the body,
in the sharp angles,
the tightness of skin over muscle,
the way a man's chest rises
and his shoulders broad.
And so, I lift,
push,
sweat for hours
until my body aches
with the weight of expectation.
But what if my body doesn't fit the mold?
What if I am more than the lines of muscle
and the press of a shirt?
The weight of trying to look the part
sometimes feels like a war
with myself.
I want to feel like a man,
but not through the lens of someone else's idea
of what it should be.
I want to be strong in my own way,
to find my own shape
and let it be enough.
But the world keeps asking,
"Are you enough yet?"