In the heart of the ring, beneath the canvas sky,
A titan stands, muscles rippling like waves,
A monument of flesh and sinew,
The circus strongman, a colossus of strength.
His hands, calloused and worn,
Have lifted the weight of the world, Iron and steel bend to his will,
Yet his eyes, soft and kind, tell tales of gentler days.
Children gaze in awe, their eyes wide with wonder,
As he hoists the impossible, defying gravity's pull,
A smile breaks across his rugged face, A beacon of warmth in the spotlight's glare.
He is a paradox, a gentle giant, A protector in the guise of a warrior,
His heart beats with the rhythm of the crowd, Each cheer a symphony, each gasp a melody.
In the quiet of the night, when the lights dim, He sheds his armor of strength,
Revealing the man beneath the myth, A soul as tender as the morning dew.
The circus strongman, a legend in the making,
A testament to the power within, Not just in muscle, but in spirit,
A hero of the ring, a champion of the heart.
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