The Man in the Tree
His head protrudes like the top of a bust, only he’s trying to free himself before the silent executioners at work in the city reach him and his home: the tree.
Each morning he sticks out a little further. He watches us, and his head, voiceless, turns as we walk past.
We debate whether we should help him; whether we should gather our tools and creep out of our houses at night before the executioners reach him; whether we should free him and save his home, but by the time we decide to take action there’s nothing left of him but a stump. On its surface are circles accounting his existence. That image stays with us, and we leave to go home where we will wait for the overseers to reach us too.
Inkposts 
Disturbing. That’s why humanity needs our outliers.
Good comment, and I can’t say I disagree with you.
A strong metaphor and a warning on the dangers of in-action. Well written.
very cryptic.
Yes, it is. I hope the title and tags can help readers see what the story is a metaphor for.