When you're doing something against the grain of society's flow you're either magnificently aware or pathetically wrong. Good luck finding out which.

The sounds of the city hold more weight at night
It’s all I can focus on when there isn’t any light.
Almost from the Stars, a brisk breeze blows through the trees.
The year has grown old, and the weather back to a cold freeze.
I look up from the park bench and see a dark abyss,
but I listen, and see something of the city is amiss.

When distracted by daylight I feel less alone
but in the spotlight of nightfall, I’m all on my own.
My thoughts grow louder as my sight fades black
I recall my less lonely times in days passed.
But on my own its less phony, knowing who myself is in a sense
I was alone yet not lonely, in my youthful bliss innocence.

Once a seed so free, now a towering tree
No more than swaying in the young summer’s breeze.
It’s days as a seedling are long, long gone
Now its roots grab nature’s blessing, its leaves sing her song.
But its leaves aren’t just for singing and feeding, no, there’s something else going on.

Among its third highest branch, around quarter til noon,
a beautiful butterfly bursts from its cocoon.
It knows it’s pretty, it appreciates its flying ability
But, despite its wings of beauty and its newfound mobility,
It misses the days of munching on the leaves of the tree so carelessly

As I watch the butterfly drift far out of sight,
Panic sets in when I realize something’s not right.
Once I’d played outdoors for hours, but now no longer in the mood
I looked around frantically until I found that little dude
He whines as he leans against the old tree’s roots… “Daddy, I want food.”