They do not identify me do they ?
I was the missing child that they forgot
to advertise as missing
They do not remember me do they ?
My face reminded of madonna
who simply disappeared underground
No more found in rock shows
not even in the audience
They were the muffled voices of a crowd
around an accident victim
surprised that she lived
They had the obituary typed.
I was probably the statue expecting
pigeons to return after they ate their feed
As if they would lend me their wings
And make peace with the angry years
As the moon looms large closer to earth
than ever before
Finally you hear me
The one who has the right to listen