Monsters Live In Closets

Somebody’s head is not a jungle
Banished by the roots of a divine tree
Just as there is a monk sitting underneath
The tarnished devils are not always sued;
For every monk there is a monster.

A blunt blame laments a gender bias
And upturns a miniskirt that hardly hides
Just because useless assets are priceless
Maybe they can earn their bread by cheating;
A society made of dead worms in a pancreas.

That the lion lives in a den is not shameless
Nor did the snakes hide in their dark pits
That eclipse is not a flower vase hiding moon-spots
But timely habits made survival of the fittest;
Even the monsters like your torsos live in closets.