Alienated

Don't ask how I know
But aliens do exist
Please don't wonder where I aquired my information
For I will never be able to tell you
Even if I wanted to
But extraterrestrial beings love Pillsbury biscuits right out of the oven
You know
Hot and fresh, and slathered in pillowy cottage cheese and a rich, luxurious draping of glistening red jam
Sometimes their alien mothers used to bake them in the morning
Back when they had more time to play with their E.T. children
Please don't inquire as to how I gathered my knowledge
Aliens hate the smell of secondary schools
Linoleum hallways, seeping the vibrant color out of their skin, choking them of earth's strange oxygen
If you're wondering how I learned these lessons
Know I won't be able to inform you of the answer
But I know for a fact that sometimes
Aliens
Feell more human, act more human, seem more human than humans themselves
They are internally flawed beings
So they fit in quite well down here, around the shrubbery and scuffling
It is impossible to comprehend how I communicate 
With the reclusive forces
But I know that sometimes aliens feel incredibly feel-ish
Like they might explode with emotions
And sometimes they feel absolutley, positively 
Numb
They seem like very human things, the aliens
But for whatever, inside, secret reason
Even if they're nice, and bake cookies for their alien classes
And complete their extraterrestrial homework on time
And smile at their odd contemporaries in the hallways
They're alienated