The Man Max
Stripped of all humanity, he waits;
His hate a bartered tool to gain the end.
Bordering on sanity, he comes;
Will he ever touch that place again?
Some think him a ruffian, some a devil.
Some call him a hero, some a rebel.
He's grown tired of breathing filthy air,
grown wiser - there's grayness in his hair.
more than a hollow shell, he sleeps, but never dreams.
And yet he is so much more than he seems.