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It's a secret desire
No one must know
It's not that she would be faulted
She wouldn't
They would all agree with her
They would
No one would laugh at her
No one would be angry
One by one, there would be nodding
A room of bobble-heads, like that Eminem video
(She doesn't remember the title, or she does
But she won't tell)
And that's the worst part
It's a secret desire
For her alone
She doesn't quite understand it
She was made how she was intended to
She dances
She smiles, she converses,
sometimes in her own tongue and sometimes in others
Just to taste them
And she tastes other things
(Like chocolate and pizza
And that satisfaction in knowing she is better than all of them)
But sometimes she hates it
How she was made
She trips
She frowns, she argues
(Because her way is better, why can't they see?)
Just so they know
And the bitterness is in her mouth
(Like ashes and cottage cheese
And that feeling because she knows she is the worst of them all)
And that's why she dreams
It's a secret desire
She thinks it is common
Others reference it, in song and in poem
Even artwork, if you look at angels, or ancient gods
It is common, if she looks
Not the desire, but the thing desired
She sees those tiny beings, brown and gray
And she hates them
And she loves them
Because they have it
Its a secret desire
For wings