Bill, having gotten fed up with life,

Moved to a deserted island

In the middle of the ocean.

Having let his boat float away

He began his new life

As a Troglodyte.

Never again would he don

More than animal hides

And plants for clothing.

Never again would he

See anything mass produced.

Daily he would arise,

And nightly fall asleep,

To the sound of

Animal roars and bird chirps.

Often the briny sea would

Show him a miserable memory

As huge white waves crashed

Hideously back and forth.

Would he really be free now?