There are these
Socks of mine
By the side of my bed,
Multi-colored yet
Multi-faceted with many needs
But used
For only one or
Two.

I keep seeing them there,
Laid bare weak, and useless
In the grand scheme of things,
Like other
Things that we'll say, I'll say,
Well, we know
What we're talking about.

That's the best thing about a poem.
You either know or,
You don't.
If you do, you look further.
If you don't, you either look deeper
Than the knower or you don't look at all and

The world keeps turning.