I cry plastic yearning tears
to be released from these years
My friends are in the sound
they help heal the scars where I'm bound
The stories I write with this pen
live live through my eyes again and again
There are places I call my own
a crown of thorns and an electric throne
This is the age where people decide
which birds will walk and which will fly
Now I stand here under the star filled skies
asking the constelations why life lives and dies
What is the purpose of the flesh I must ask
if it is only to fill out papers and complete tasks
I never cared much for the shape of my face
from my eyes plastic tears fall from grace.

Cheryl McDonnell

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/plastic-yearning-tears/