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You propped your torso above the sweaty mat, resting on tense arms, arms rippling and sculpted and wrapped in serpentine tattoos I'd long stopped crunching my body into a pretzel
There’s nothing quite like the smellOf the gym’s weight room at 12:10 on a Tuesday night,Sweat rolling off in torrential waves as worrieswander away into the air vents.  
A six minute mile, feet hardly touching the ground. Nothing else matters,   My standing backflip seems to defy gravity. I spin right around.   Only five more reps.
I just want to be an inspration To those with a dedication To become better then what they were yesterday only to realize that your most important days are the day you are born and the day you find out why
The refrain on my frame Left many to restrain Including myself. Until the doubt cleared and hope was on set I realized There's no bet.   Green, yellow, orange, red
The gym, so musty and cool. The weights clanging against the ground. The buff guy, I thought “what a tool.” The hydraulics hissed, and gave out a sigh. The tap-tap-tap, of feet on the treadmill.
When I step through its doors I am at war. Every Set is a battle, Every Rep is contact, Every drop of sweat that runs down my head, Is the blood of my fallen brothers. I will not rest until my body runs red.
Being healthy is very important to me, On nights, and weekends when others party, I am one with the iron I am lifting. When others make the decision to eat unhealthy,
Sweat drips from my hair. Sweat rolls down my forehead. Sweat covers my whole body. My arms turn into noodles as I push the bar forward and then back. Forward and back in a constant motion as if I am one with the machine.
If music is a choice, why can't gym be a choice? If art is a choice, why can't gym be a choice? What if some of us are not physically inclined? Just like some of us are not artistic? 
Sitting in my seat; doing so alone. They say smile, be kind, and make new friends. Tell me, admin, how easy that was for you. Tell me, teacher, how to smile in a room of strangers.
Well teachers, you did it. You succeeded in breaking us. We’ve been stressed beyond our explosion point, Cried for no apparent reason, And have had several mental breakdowns.  
Gym class my be fun for me I want to Run I maybe the girl that slows down the line I maybe the girl who looks like she does not try I maybe the one you yell at to go faster, keep up  but never slow down
Working out is an art form, My body is the canvas, and I am the painter. Every rep is like a brush stroke, Every set is the sculpture that is me. Working out is an art form, My body is the canvas.
The gym is my Tabernacle, A place I long for, a place I seek. A safe haven from all the daily disgust. The gym is a war against my muscles, A place my sprit is freed,
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