Mockingbird : A Poem
it's a feather a delicate feather fallen from angel wings a feather from a bird who sings songs of freedom and peace but it's a missing piece it's a heart shattered a perfect picture frame frazzled another body in the street that's been dazzled by the blinding lights of another knife
a crime committed by the sinners themselves who are scared to die you see it's a feather it's a sign of rest a feather upon your chest that no longer breathes or heaves just lays lifeless as cold as the knife that took you, today,
and others away kids with no guidance sticking up knives like they're tridents ruling over postcodes as if they're not part of the same land reaching out for empathy and forgiveness when you committed the crime with that same hand you've got your boys behind you but you're behind bars you're haunted by the eyes of your victim every night in the stars the guilt remains in your skin like scars
but it shall pass for you at least not for the body lying bloody in the street buried deep in six feet of concrete it's a white feather fallen from the finest bird who's voice can't be heard it's shushed by the wind the whispering things that cause people to sin and to throw away opportunities like trash in a bin it's the voice that carried you safely back home
it's your angel wings starting to grow it's a pure feather it comes from a place of light so you can see out at the world day and night watch over your mum the longing for her son looking for his smile in the sun reaching out for one last goodbye for all the kids who are too scared to leave their house without protection. for all the kids who weren't protected.
