As I sit here in this tree,
Observing the world around
Oppressive, stifling heat welling up around me
Licking the scratches I got scrambling up here
Shifting around, finding better perch
Trying to blot out the noise of two warring stereos
Wishing I didn't have to come down
Wishing I had a soothing ocean before me,
rather than an eyesore of cement.
Others imitate me--let them climb their own trees
it takes nothing from my private glory
in this little birdseye I have made and found.
Smarting lines etched in scarlet on my arms
The price for my escape
I can suffer for my freedom
and wonder if I should pity
those who do not dare.