The man stands weary outside in the light,

His shabbiness glowing each step he takes.

His eyes are squinting; the moon is so bright,

The readiness that he feels now, he fakes.

He closes his eyes and waits for the pain,

As it envelopes him, he asks, "Why me?"

He wonders why fate chose not to refrain;

The man steps inside so no-one can see.

In confined space, he's no danger to all

But loneliness claims him; worsens his throe

He howls with grief; none answer his call.

He wakes up next morning; prepares to go.

Sweaty and anguished, he hopes none will fret

For a mis'ry-less life, he's lost his bet.