'Why me?'Shouted the man of"Why me?"Shouted the man of red face,Whose neglected vehicleUttered its last few noisesJust short ofThirty miles from his house."Why me?"Sobbed the woman of mixed minds,Whose soon to be anticipated arrivalHad decided to give upOnly hours afterHer last cigarette."Why me?"Muttered the man of no home,Forgetting the volumeOf those once-filled bottlesThat lead him here to thisLonely place."Why me?"Though the girl of just six years,Whose mother had been takenAnd whose father sought her for his pain,Yet her trembling lips had neverLearnt to speak those wordsOut loud.