i know how it feels to be second and not br Knowing what to do about it; and the first br one refuses to care about you. br br i know how it feels being depressed inside br That small capsule with capricious unhappiness br and hopelessness their prison guards br br i know how i felt riding greyhound buses unnoticed br by those seated comfortably up front, white-curtains br to obscure Negroes instead of light. br br i know more saints who kneel and pray br Hoping for something magical in the distance and br finding out Later or never that reality is just being. br br i know how it feels to be forgotten and alone br On a stinky garbage bin eating from a can br As passer-bys are cosign to oblivion. br br i know how it feels being mother with br a fully matured, broken-winged bird who br can't leave her nest. br br i feel the pain of the crying womb br that month after month her flowers go br to seeds, die, and never to blossom. br br i know how i feels remembering the br The child I 'got but didn't get' br and the deprived one could have gotten.