Standing on the side of a bridge, he shouted
Hate for all the world he had once so touted.
“Suicide is best,” he no longer doubted,
“Life is too boring…”
Cloying losers, all of his “friends” were humdrum
Lifeless stodgy people, he could not become
One of their kind, better to die and be done
With all of their shit.
As he stood there, thinking about his trouble,
He was asked for money, a hungry hobo—
Who he made to listen, befuddled. Hobo
Pushed him right over!