At sunrise, I try to show my concern however it gets blurred in the morning mist
I have tried to fly to warmer skies
But, those eagle eyes follow me
I have become a point of focus to direct their hatred and anger

All of my words are never heard
They seem so absurd
Maybe that is why they call me a mockingbird
A seasonal bird that observes the hurt
But, cannot utter a word because the eagles of wisdom complain that I squawk each day
Now, I have become their prey

Every day, the eagles scan the landscape watching and waiting for me to fall or fly
Even though we are one of the same species, we are not the same
I know my position in the food chain
I belong further down the hierarchical order
Yet, I have fought for so long to belong in your skies
In the end, the territorial lines are all that divide you and I

Somedays, I wish I was a songbird and then you would listen to my words
But, the mockingbird is always wrong
I will not prolong my pain and dismay for another rainy day
I will not allow my feathers to fade whilst they glide effortlessly through life
In the meantime, I will learn to fly to warmer skies without you by my side.

© Rosie Burnham

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About Rosie Burnham

Twitter: @Rosie_Burnham Blog: Huffingpost Blog: Very Loose Women (ResonanceFM): Women's Health Magazine (Strong Minds Issue):