Hermit

The account of one old man's life.

I wish I could tell you I hold wisdom;
Ha, my wisdom is like ash.
Perhaps you'd assume I offer freedom;
Psh, freedom? That's a gas.

If you saw me you'd notice i'm downcast;
My eyes scan the hard concrete.
Assume that it's from some demented past;
Yes, my childhood screams defeat.

Writing is my only escape from here;
I expect nothing is seen.
No more do I produce tears;
My heart is rotten and mean.

When spotted please lend me a kind favor;
A pat on the back or hug.
For i've lived for so long with no neighbor;
I feel atlas has shrugged.