He reduced his speed, walked in slow motion, at a slow pace, like a tortoise

Nothing living or non living mattered.

He wore an old shirt which was tattered,

He had lost it all, his face read negative, his body showed nil improvement,

A closer look at him revealed anger, bitterness, and sore.

He loathed the world, and it’s occupants, a sad soul,

Almost went berserk,

His next stop would be a mental asylum, he was going nuts

With nothing but despair, he sat down, looked up, faced the moon and dark sky,

hopelessly waiting for dawn.

For his destiny was unknown.

A sad man he was.