i feel like a bird that flew right into a window
that you pointed at and laughed

i feel like the shaven-head celebrities
the crack addicts
the high, homeless hippies on the street

i feel like a person of Wal Mart
the awkward couple that shows way too much PDA in public
the punchline of a fat joke

(i see all the fingers pointed at me as--)

i struggle to bend my wings into shape again
but i've taken to writing poetry and cutting up pieces of newspaper
to fit between the ruffled feathers

i shouldn't still have brain damage from the collision i had with your pride (sixteen miles high)

but maybe i do

i tap on the glass just to make sure that i really am a fool
and to see if you'll look back
to see me redeem myself
to see me fly
a
  w
     a
       y.

(but you don't)