MONKEY LAUGH, MONKEY CRY, MONKEY DEAD

MONKEY LAUGH, MONKEY CRY, MONKEY DEAD

Monkey laugh when people clap,
monkey dance on wooden floor,
monkey wear a little hat
and bow beside the door.

Monkey grin for shiny coins,
monkey jump when master said,
crowds believed his smile was real—
they never saw the dread.

Monkey laugh beneath the lights,
show his teeth and shake his head,
everybody loved the show,
nobody asked if he was fed.

Monkey cry when night arrived,
when the tent was cold and black,
monkey dream of forest trees
and sun upon his back.

He dreamed of branches bending low,
of fruit beneath the sky,
of never hearing human hands
commanding him to fly.

Monkey laugh,
monkey cry,
monkey slowly lose his mind,
while the people paid their coins
and left their hearts behind.

One morning monkey did not dance,
his little hat stayed on the chair,
the master shouted out his name,
but monkey was not there.

His body lay beside the cage,
his final tear had dried,
the crowd complained the show was closed—
not one of them had cried.

Monkey laugh,
monkey cry,
monkey silent,
monkey dead,
all the words he could not speak
were buried in his head.

They called the monkey wild and strange,
a creature born to fall,
but perhaps the monkey was not the animal—
perhaps we were, after all.