Maybe it's a poem, I'm not sure.

I WANT TO BE A BIRD.

Nothing to ruffle my feathers but the wind that lifts me.

I am pathetic and weak.

The tiny over-worked fingers of a child made my cell phone.

I WANT TO BE A BIRD.

Nothing to worry me but the next opportunity to take flight.

I am selfish and closed-minded.

The blistered feet of invisible children stamp out my complaining.

I WANT TO BE A BIRD.

Nothing but my own kind to keep me company.

I am wrong and foolish.

The air in my lungs, the sight in my eyes, the words in my ears...

................................................I WANT TO BE A BIRD.