You

You walk, you talk. You are normal (you think), not.
You rub your eyes to clear the haze; you have not slept, you're in a daze.
You cringe when the hinges squeak. You cover your ears when the voices speak.
You step, you trudge. You are bludgeoned by fatigue.
You look but fail to find. You give chase, only to fall further behind.
You smile for a while; it's queer. You bite your quivering lower lip -- that's real.
You sleep, you wake. You shiver, stumble, shake.
You beg for release. You plead to go free. You scream --
You are the ugly duckling, run out of songs to sing.