I cannot say a slithe in form
But a rapture to my ears
Once I categorized
all the songs
It brought me low to tears

But in the dark of
nocturnal dreams
I cried out in dispair
To hear the incessant
thrill of the mocking bird
made me pull my hair

Now the nights have been reclaimed
goodbye to the nights of all my pain
The mockingbird no longer thrills at 3 a.m.
It has met a tragic end