Here I Sit

Here I sit, alone on my hill. I can see the whole city from here, disgusting place. I wonder why they chose this location. Why here, of all places? It seems to stretch on forever. Beyond the horizon at least. I wonder how far that is. And it's all flat. Very ugly indeed. They could at least try to make it pretty. Instead they rely on my. It's not my fault I grew up here, but they seem to want me to be their Saint Peter, watching over the entire city, making sure nothing happens. At least that's what it feels like. I don't know why they chose me, though. They killed all of my friends and it looked like they were going to kill me as well, until some guy - who I hate to say I hate - saved my life, cruel bastard. They made me into some sort of monument, as if they expected me to do something. What do I know? What is a Sequoia sempervirens supposed to do here?

I hope they cut me down.

I hope they cut me down one day.