Tuesday, April 13, 2010

Salary Man Pride

We are the bent tree rooted into a cliff's edge
Scrawny and ugly to the eye, we stand alone.
Our bent backs point the direction of the wind
A witness to what has warped us
                                               Into these survival shapes
We have views the comfy forest trees will never know
We compete with no other trees
We compete with the forces trying to kill us
                                                                               Both within and without
We stand and suffer, bent and austere
We are the proudest of trees
        Our survival is our glory
        Our solitude is our pride

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