They’ve started the analysis, The media’s erudite; Sifting through the artifacts Of someone’s final night. Drawn to all celebrity, The newshounds found a friend, When Chris Benoit, a wrestler, Brought three lives to an end. He strangled both his wife and kid, Then messaged every friend Instructing them to feed the pets; A chore he’d usually tend. Then he strolled into his gym And found his way to die; Equipment used to make him strong His strength would soon deny. Inserted then into the news, Reporters gathered ‘round The family home of Chris Benoit Their theories to expound. Was it the steroids that he took, Did drinking play a part? He beat his wife, his kid was shot; Was evil in his heart? They’re interviewing everyone Who knew the wrestler’s name; Doctors, lawyers, Indian chiefs, To find someone blame. Here’s a guy, in middle age, Whose body’s so enhanced By anabolic steroid shots He’d pop if he were lanced. He crawls around a wrestling ring In underwear too tight, Affecting every macho move In manufactured fights. Clearly wrestlers so employed To ‘round the country work The ranks of Wrestling Mania, Are plagued by little quirks. I’m thinkin’ that stability’s Not needed for a job That calls for you to roll around In spandex with some slob. Were signs ignored, did voices mute A wrestler’s helpless cry? A few more days they’ll poke around And search for reasons why. All the while the answer lies Upon the printed page - The application for a job Upon the wrestling stage.