A Boy

Head held high,

With his mighty pride,

He was walking along with the time,

With his long stride.

With a stubble of beard,

With his goal focused and cleared,

He was walking damn right,

All the thoughts upright.

He kept some tricks oh his sleeves,

He was sincere and creative as a bee,

Always ready at his heels,

Maybe he had an art of creating master peice.

He wore his pride like a throne,

Had an armor made of bronze,

He was the king of his zone,

Coz he was the winner of demons of his own.