In a realm where shifts divide the days,
A tale unfolds in myriad ways,
"Nice and easy," they whisper to you,
While I tread the path that's far from true.

Thirty-six hours, a marathon in stride,
Where ball-crushing forces coincide,
A factory of pressure, a relentless grind,
My balls endure, strength intertwined.

On the hydraulic altar, they take their place,
Enduring forces, an unyielding embrace,
Six trillion newtons, a weight to bear,
Directly on my orbs, a burden to share.

Company record, a lofty goal,
Six point one trillion, a tale to extol,
Aiming for triumph, in this daunting chore,
Crushed balls in the lead, forevermore.

A gift card beckons, twenty-five at Macy's,
For my love, headphones, and harmonies,
To drown out the tales of my plaintive woe,
From the factory where my seeds undergo.

What's left in this realm, a mystery to me,
A realm of balls, from torment not free,
I fear the glance, the downward gaze,
Into that abyss where the crushing stays.

Yet, let this tale be more than despair,
A saga of strength, a journey to share,
For in each trial endured without fail,
Lies the essence of the unyielding tale.