Man was not made for submission,

nor to be broken and bowed in contrition.

His spirit, not doomed to perdition,

but to rise to great heights on the wings of a mission.



Man was not made for submission,

not some creature to be bound by the chains of tradition.

His life, no appeal for permission,

free in his spirit, given drive by volition.



Man was not made for submission,

no supplicant coward who lives in suspicion.

Ruling with cold erudition,

balanced in power, dignified and patrician.



Man was not made for submission,

never to turn from the bold expedition.

With the calm of a staunch composition,

he prevails through the strife within grim competition.



Man was not made for submission,

with a cry of defiance and a blade bathed in crimson.

Crushing his foe’s opposition,

he embodies the spark, fueling freedom’s ignition.



Man was not made for submission.

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