He collected sock monkeys.
Maybe as an attempt
to regain some of his
empty childhood,
maybe as a way
to remember.
They slept on
the comforter of his bed,
as he stayed up into
the hours of the morning,
studying for the life
so imminent,
he could almost taste it.
He wanted to escape,
and just take every chance
violently thrown at him
or not.
He wanted it all,
all the heartbreak,
all the pain,
all the frustration.
He wanted to life.
So,
why did he collect sock monkeys?
Seems like an odd
collection item.
But they serve as company.
And they won’t discourage him,
like too many had.
People he trusted,
people he loved.
Sock monkeys wouldn’t say
they won’t be hypocrites,
and then break their own damn rule.
Sock monkeys are loyal companions,
but they are only toys.
The moment he realizes
his life isn’t a thing of play,
he’ll be able to take himself seriously.
And prove all those assholes
he was right.
Because he is.
Just you wait.
