tee-ta-lee-hoo....... tee-ta-lee hoo....... ta ta ta...

last night i was awakened by the song of the mocking bird.

shrill.
repetitive.
strange.
imitating.

his song hung in the air.

he was an echo of everything around him
yet had not a single original composition to offer.

he sat on his high branch,
devoting himself to repeating
and perfecting the recital of every dream but his own.
he sat alone
pretending to be everything he is not.


i feel like a mocking bird.