i walk down this street
keep to myself, head first
into shadows strewn across
the pavement; little images
for big brown eyes,

someone said you look
like the shy type, the kind
the runs away when the time's
right

and boy, were they wrong

if we are supposed
to be here, then why does
it feel like the opposite?

i ask the same questions
in class, stare at the clock
until it strikes six; the bell
signals for my grand entrance

i escape through the exit

only to find myself
knee deep in some kind
of crippling reverie;

leave finger prints
on the walls, the shells
of my limbs somewhere
on the floor

a walking oddity
given life by a
budding game designer

with the pose of an angel

i stand in your way.