The loneliest cold stare

Poor Mr Miserable,
No bench to sleep upon,
No rum to warm your belly,
No fire to warm your toes.
Poor,
Cold Mr Miserable,
No sleeping bag nor company but your chattering mind.
Poor,
Cold,
Crazy Mr Miserable,
Everybody's having such a lovely time.
Poor,
Cold,
Crazy,
Jealous Mr Miserable,
When all the doors are closed,
The lights lit,
Doesn't the city look like a frozen concrete tidal wave with stars living inside,
Twinkling to spite you?
Mr miserable ponders as he stares across the road.