How sad is it,
that their is so much that needs clarity,
but it's all prevented by the very thing that gives us disparity,
it is [but of course!] the very essence, the very source,
of our own vanity.

See how the birds fly,
yes how pretty the birds are as they go on by.
But think how simple it is, that they don't care how each other looks,
and they don't need to worry about what they're being told,
by biased and characterizing books.

They prune their feathers,
and ready themselves
for any weather,
then they sing.

What do they sing?
Why do they sing?
Why is it pleasing,
soothing, comforting,
amazing and simple,
just for our ears,
why do we always worry,
about the coming years?

The mockingbird,
there's a bird, that has no care in the world,
as it sounds like whatever it hears,
it does it daringly,
and best of it all, it does it without fears.

No fear of judgement,
no care for purpose or otherwise,
it's the truest mirror of a voice,
just as it is, a truth in itself, devoid of any lies.

Mockingbird, mocking the bird,
tweeting, is what we do,
when it just gets harder to talk,
to simply me and you.

Why can't we be like mocking birds,
not mocking the birds, that fly on by,
or is this really,
the only thing that we can do?

Mocking bird, mocking bird,
sing us a song,
sing us a song,
of the things we know,
of what's right and wrong.

Won't you sing too?