Ode to a Dirty Old Sock

Crumpled on the bedroom floor
Crusty, yellow and threadbare
Dropped, forgotten, once a pair
Worn twice, three times, but maybe more
There you sat as the days passed
Where the laundry pile had amassed
The basket you have never seen
Not since the last time you were clean
Now all the shirts laugh at you
And all the pant giggle as they do
Only the underwear seems to know
The terror wrought when he buys porno

Many times you've smelled defeat
Or abandoned at the end of the sheet
He lets his nails overgrow
Until...