The night had always troubled him the most

No food, no shelter, no alms

The shiver, the chill, the blowing wind

Hugged by just a rug,

His night had to pass.

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Days were good to pass by

As he could sneak around

Sometimes begging, sometimes stealing

With people around it was always easy to hide.

To tease them, abuse them

A medium to express his soreness on them

And thus get either the tat for his tit

Or sympathy for his uncontrolled will.

His comparison with animals is

A more common and accepted one.

The nights were always harsh on him

Today’s was no better

Again with no food no shelter

And as the day knocked into his hole,

He had passed into an ever sleepy day.

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