Mocking Bird

Mockingbird with your hidden cries of the world turning and turning, keeping up with the bridges burning, with the crumbling ash as a bed marked in gray pulling at your wounds in their scars and stitch marks...what call can you make at this hour? Distant sound surrounds and every break in your voice, dear mocking bird, can't be heard. The calling of night sleeps and daybreak will not make it alright...with the wars in our faces...in our places with our distant races...it isn't alright that the world continues to turn and turn while we continue to burn.

Reviews

[Michael X]

wow, this is prosefully passionate and the messege behind the artful perspective speaks to the masses,
I loved the metaphor, it attracts with a special force of reason, as the flow captured intimately what
we as ashes in a willingly burning world seek to sooth and calm, I must say keep up the amazing work