The poor little monkey wandered sadly through the dense forest, his tiny frame trembling as the morning mist wrapped around him. His eyes, wide and innocent, searched for kindness among the troop, but all he ever found was cruelty. Wherever he went, the big monkeys pushed him aside, snatched his food, and mocked his weakness. He was smaller than the others, weaker too, and his soft cries often echoed through the trees, unheard and unanswered.
When he tried to sit near the group, the dominant males growled and chased him away. Even the young ones, who should have been his playmates, turned against him, learning from their elders to bully the helpless. The poor little monkey would hide behind the old tree roots, clutching his thin tail tightly as his stomach growled with hunger. He had no one to protect him—no mother’s warmth, no friend’s comfort.
Every day was a struggle for survival. He would wait until the others had finished eating, then quietly gather the leftovers, trembling with fear that someone might catch him. His body bore scratches and scars, painful reminders of the many times he had been attacked for no reason. Yet, even in his loneliness, the little monkey’s heart still held a faint hope—that someday, someone would show him love.
When the sun set and the forest grew quiet, he curled himself up under a branch, gazing at the sky. The stars above seemed to whisper comfort, their soft light kissing his tear-stained face. Though the world had been unkind, the little monkey still dreamed of belonging, of finding a place where he could live without fear, where love, not cruelty, would guide his days.
