His High

He soars across the building tops
careless and free.
He avoids all of the gunshots
that go off in society.

Bleeding tiny drops of blood,
ecstasy within him.
One more swig, another huff,
He loves to take the chemicals in.

Scratching at the building walls
he is coming down.
Maybe he can stop his fall
if he escapes the world beneath him.

Tiny little baby hands
Reach up to catch his face.
Maybe they'll get him before he lands
And safe him from death's disgrace.