the tree tops are mourning
        no more monkeys
the breeze whispers a dirge
       no more monkeys
simpson street has gone concrete
and the trees are silently dying
        no more air-borne swings and leaps
they've dug up the hill and modernized it
pretentious mansions spell monkey doom
we weep to see the primates gone!

898

How happy I was if I could forget
To remember how sad I am
Would be an easy adversity
But the recollecting of Bloom

Keeps making November difficult
Till I who was almost bold
Lose my way like a little Child
And perish of the cold.

I feel like I'm living in a house
That has already been packed up.
Displaced things.
Confusing mazes.
Unlabeled boxes,
But never unable to find the *****.

I'm too powerful to be open.
It's not secrets,
It's survival.