For thirty-seven years confined, within walls that bind,
A soul emerges, trembling, into the world unkind.
The door creaks open, a passage to the unknown,
Where every shadow whispers, and every wind has moaned.
**Afraid** of all, the rustling leaves, the sky’s vast dome,
Each step a monumental feat, far from his home.
The world, a canvas of horrors, too vivid, too wide,
With every shiver, every gasp, a part of him died.
Sensitive ears, attuned to the night’s eerie songs,
Hearing the slither, the breaths, the multitude of wrongs.
The cries of prey, in the clutches of silent death,
A symphony of survival, till the very last breath.
Itchy, feverish, skin crawling with unseen foes,
Trembling at the sight of life, in its throes.
People pass, their eyes a mystery, unread,
In their gaze, he sees a reflection, a thread of dread.
His own **shadow**, a specter in the moon’s pale light,
Dances with him, a partner in the eternal night.
A figure haunting, a reminder of what he fears most,
The self that lurks within, now his unwelcome host.
In the silence, he hears the world’s heart, pulsating,
A rhythm of life and death, unrelenting, suffocating.
Each breath a struggle, each moment a test,
To walk among the living, yet never at rest.
So he wanders, a ghost among the corporeal,
A phantom in flesh, in a world surreal.
Afraid of the light, the dark, the in-between,
A man who lived in shadows, now finally seen.
But is he free, or trapped in a wider cell?
Only time will tell, in this earthly hell.
For now, he walks, a sentinel of his own demise,
In a world that watches, with a thousand unseen eyes.
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