My golden monkey perches
on my back and in my brain
every time he starts and lurches
the scars the holes, and stains
I know without a doubt
I can extend my hand and heart
that's me, holding it out
not intelligent, or smart
Time and time again
I'll pretend I've got no stake
every avenue I scout
unable too prove, complain
that in my heart
I'm not unhappy and/or
not gone quite
insane
Sep 21, 2018
Sep 21, 2018 at 10:34 PM UTC
My golden monkey perches
on my back and in my brain
every time he starts and lurches
the scars the holes, and stains
I know without a doubt
I can extend my hand and heart
that's me, holding it out
not intelligent, or smart
Time and time again
I'll pretend I've got no stake
every avenue I scout
unable too prove, complain
that in my heart
I'm not unhappy and/or
not gone quite
insane
Request permission to use this poem