What makes a Man?

Does he share his dignity with the world?

Let it be known,
that wisdom is to be shown,
when a hero stands on his own,
he fights no battles he fights the wars,
from the desert wasteland to the water that pours,
he shows no hesitation,
but yet there is an instigation.

His eyes fill themselves with fury,
waiting to be ignited,
with red shades to blue,
he has nothing to say but vengeance,
welcome to his mind and it's present,
he has a soul like the waxed crescent,
he fills the void with turbulence,
but ensures his mind like the reinsurance.


He has no weakness, maybe just his bleakness,
his thought hollow, his words too few,
there can't be nothing he can't go through.

He's the star of the Nebula.