It’s prevalent to say
When your father ghosts, you pick up his pants to wear.
Well, the pant is a monster
It wears you.
The pants slink out of the wardrobe
And crawl eerily to your bed
As it touches cold feet,
You gasp with dreadfulness and rouse
To the sound of your mother and father
As you reassured mother in the dark
And tried to make her smile.
when you said it would be okay
That she shouldn’t worry
It would be fine
He would change.
After many nights he has abused her
The pants wear you.
By Rodney Patrick