Another Crumb of Freedom

I think I know these pigeons 
They were once beggars 
From another life 
Once I myself was stuck like them 

I was never 
Without the thought of food 
Or sex, or sipping soda pop 
Off the sidewalk 

And flying meant next to nothing 
But then I fell in love 
And when that ended 
My spirit floated free 

Like dust 
But now I am rooted in poetry 
And philosophy, and thought…  
Good God, this is odd  

What have I become? 
I mean, I used to be a bum! 
Holy crap, my kingdom's come undone 
I think I need a little crumb of freedom