The kind of man

The real self we are...

Everyone has an image inside
That one who seeks a better side
Everybody is a battlefield within
where failure or triumph begin.

There is a kind of man
A kind man wanting to man
But contending his own self
neither for dominance nor self-interest.

He leaves us with insatiable cravings
Daring to be the dream once had
Maturing enough until no more that lad

Warp and weft intertwined
Like the man and our conscience
Moulds the future,an artistic craft
Lest we be on pins and needles.

His image might look blurred
Per a single minds description
Nonetheless,we all hear him roar
Quenching our fears to flaws.

Indeed there is a kind of man.
Maybe peculiar to some, of many.
The real self,the real you.