You are born a man to be a man,
To be a man is to man up the man,
You man up in order to to be a man,
To become a man is to make a man,
You man can only in silence suffer,
To be a man is not to be a man,
You man is only us two divided,
To forget a man is never a man,
No man never said they can feel,
For man is a man that only thinks,
You man can only do when not,
This man that fiddles with little,
A man that knows darkness too well,
That man that effects us different,
Then a man that leaves is us again,
Here battles himself a lonely war,
Ere blocks the world is he himself,
But peace is made though never within,
Then creates his demons is he himself,
Idolises the ways that be to be better,
To the music is the time that flies,
Yearns to know more than ought be,
To continue to learn to know more,
But never himself is all he knows,
For every man is their own world,
A thousand words but none to say,
Is thus a man that drives away,
Then walks away and knows wrath,
Onus to breed and begin one anew,
Is that man that cannot express,
Would rather escape to other places,
Away from other men for the time being,
Comes back to silence to think,
But slowly is tired and long gone,
Is the man whose world he leaves,
Is then a man by whom no man sunk,
You man that mocks what not it is,
Laughs at all but never himself,
Walks away never returns again,
Compares himself with another,
Is the man to compete to win,
Is he in knowing does self-destruct,
All morals the words of yesterday,
Let not the choice be the firmest,
Adaptable is he who shallow walks,
Knowing is he who deeply thinks,
Loving is the man that let man cry.

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Life, Poetry, Works
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