The wind up monkey
walked and clapped his cymbal hands.
The child giggled,
never wanting it to end.
Always twisting the key on the monkey’s back
before he could stop,
before he could run into the wall.
Always twisting one time too many.
Wind and walk.
Until his cymbal hands crashed no longer.
The child screamed.
Not knowing the monkey was over worked.
Not knowing the wall would make him stronger.
Not knowing he needed to unwind.