The Pant is A Monster

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 crawls eerily to your bed

As it touches cold feet,

You gasp and rose

To the sound of your mother and father

Arguing stridently

Foot in,

As you reassured mother in the dark

Another when you said it would be okay

That she shouldn’t worry

It would be fine

He would change

After many nights he has