Doesn’t he look smart? Sweet appearance.

Monkəy boy looked right into the camera before he got on the bus. The photographer captured something magical—a girl’s smiling, questioning expression; also seen is the girl’s finger curiously pointing towards the monkəy boy. 

She could be asking, ‘Is he yours? Is he for real? He’s sweet, can I take him home?’ 

Well, the answers are ‘Yes’ and ‘No’, and ‘Are you absolutely sure? He comes with a lot of baggage’.

No hurt is intended towards the boy, all dressed up with somewhere to go.

Monkəy boy got on the bus; the world was his. He grasped every opportunity that came along. He made his fortune in a world separate from others. It was just his way.

Let’s begin: My brain is bigger than yours, when you’re drunk on all fours. I knew it then monkəy boy, you were here to destroy. You’ve not disappointed for what you were anointed. You understood I didn’t belong to loved ones, you showed the proof. Even lying when you said “Reindeers don’t land on the roof”. You couldn’t resist telling me “Santa Claus didn’t exist”. You’re a deceiver, a disbeliever, an abuser ‘to boot’. I believe in the man in the red suit. I believe the promises from loved ones. We all choke from tears in our lungs. I tell you now, monkəy boy, what you couldn’t destroy. It’s something you tried to kill, it’s something inside me still.

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