The Mockingbird

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The Mockingbird,

Beautiful and always pleasantly heard,

Brown, but yet full of life,

Soaring around the sky,

Always catching our eye.

 

Innocent and gentle,

Yet always being central.

Greeting us with their song,

Singing clear and strong.

 

A shot is heard,

From a dark black pistol.

 

The Pistol,

Small yet powerful

Its noise doesn’t make life colorful.

Only triggered by man’s hatred and need to harm,

It is something many wish to unarm.

 

The Mockingbird’s cry is heard,

As the shot hit the bird.

 

Something to majestic and beautiful,

Hit by something hated, harmful.

 

Innocence died,

With only a single shot,

A single push,

A single sound.

 

Something so dark and cruel,

Has won,

While good has lost.

 

People think that good always wins,

But for this round,

Good has lost.

 

By: Jenny and Jaxson

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