To most people I don't exist,
And to a few, I'm merely a myth.
Some view me as a spirited soul,
While to others, I've just gotten old.
A very select know first hand,
That in truth, I am merely a man.
One might tell he's seen noble feats,
Many more, talk of devious deeds.
Friends expel nostalgic breaths,
Others mimic stories that stretch.
These are all just rumors to be told,
In fact, no one really truly knows.
These anecdotes are not who I am,
I'm neither angelic or made of sin.
Despite the facts and the lies,
I continue on with heartfelt sighs.
This soul only knows where it stands,
That in truth, I am merely a man.
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