There was a man...

There was a man who called himself a man,
He brightly moved his feet across the life.
He always won, when not, he tried again,
It seemed he reached his hand-made paradise.

His head was high; he always wore a smile,
He crushed disasters with his optimistic way of life.
There were no mounts that he couldn’t climb,
There was nobody who could beat him in a fight.

His life was awesome, well it seemed:
Was only he aware of the fact,
His soul, that sparkled sunny beams
Was injured after venomous attacks.

He cought disease that never could be cured,
Desease that killed his perfect-looking soul.
He suffered every day, but he obscured
His pain, misery and fall.

Then once decided he to take a drug
That goes by famous title “hope”.
And leading by euphoria and being smug,
Decided he to find a way to cope.

He walked a lot. He crossed entire world,
He looked for cure in almost every place. 
Success by him was finally behold:
He found the remedy that he could finally taste. 

But right before he was about to take it,
His broken soul commanded its last will;
The fear cought him and he couldn’t make it
And sat in front of remedy forever still…