Between Life And Death

A young man sits feasting on bread and on ale. A time passes, the man withers, his drink goes brown his bread goes stale.
But what did he do with his life?
His peers went to battle with grace in their stride, he just sat at his table in the corner to hide. Others conquered and defended their land, why didn't he even lift a hand? Their armor was stained with blood and tainted by rust, they were injured by battle and suffered from lust but he was scared.
He didn't suffer as but more than his kin, the light of the world was like fire to his pale skin.
He was afraid to die.
He'd never left home or found a wife, but all men die, not all en really have a life.