banging my head
against these trees,
i deal with the rigors
of living among the picidae,
i’m called “insane,”
you don’t know my pain,
antisocial, i shake,
chase and i feed,
i want to live in solitary,
can we keep it that way?
stop calling me woody
and get the hell away from me.
i am the woodpecker
and this is my forest,
today i awoke in the noon,
sometimes i think i’m an owl,
but dad doesn’t like that,
he tells me it’s time
to get out of my nest,
fend for myself,
grow and live on my own.
but i’m not ready yet.
look at everyone else,
they got their families,
they found their purpose,
but cut to me,
and i’m stuck
inside my mama’s nest,
still in endless debt,
and i wonder if i’ll ever get
away from my pain,
i guess this is life’s test
to see how much i can take.
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