Killing the Mockingbird

“It’s a sin to kill the mockingbird…
When it sings its heart out”…
Ask thyself, and see if thy worthy to stand among the clouds…
Shedding of innocent blood…
Is no trip around the roundabout…

Authorities play the Hunter’s Game…
While pricking on their prey…
Thinking that birds have no feelings;
Or do they?
Birds have no rights or have any say…
Picking their spot, picking their day…
To give the bird a courteous “Go away”…

Arming their rifles, taking their aim…
Thirst has set their hearts aflame…
Pulling the trigger, the bird flew astray…
It may not die, or it may…
But it doesn’t matter to them anyway…
They have disposed the bird standing in their way…

But the bird wasn’t a foolish one…
It knows; being the special hunt…
It is different from those under the sun…
Preferring the dark and shade, it was always on the run…
Plucking on olives rather than palms…
It was deemed to bring lesser goodness but more harm…

Sometimes its voice cause people to be adrenaline pumped…
Or in the mid day heat turbulent minds calmed…
It enjoys motivating people reaching what they want…
In return asked for nothing but some bread crumbs…
Or just some sweet plums…
As a payment for what it had sung…

Those who witness the murder…
Would scream in agony on top of their lungs…
For one had mercilessly suffered…
From the ferocious back stabbing tongues…
May it be a lesson or a reminder…
People are not disposables or mere junks…

For the next time around…
You might find yourself weighted, yet lesser by a pound…
Then you’ll realize your heart is hollowed; it is nowhere to be found…
You’ve traded your heart for a bullet round…
To shoot that mockingbird out of contention, out of bounds…

-Bornion Crusader-