| My mocking bird sits upon the window sill, so quiet, serene, and still. It knows not what horrors lie inside, of who has been born, lived, and died. Too many windows it has been, but to mine it comes back again. Why does it come back every day? To sing to me as I sleep, as I lay. Then wake me up in the same way, every morning, every day. The mocking bird, is it mocking me? Does it know, does it see? Does it see the death, the death so black, of people I have stabbed in the back? So many friends I have given the curse, and now this bird so makes it worse. It mocks me day and night, while this terror I doth fight. I was cursed with eternal life, by an old hangman's knife. Oh, but not living life did I receive, but more eternal death my thoughts retrieve. So then my friends did want to tell, but it ended in their place in hell, for the sin they tried to commit, but they just didn't understand it. "I cannot take his mocking anymore!" I shout as I drop to the floor. He screams, he screams, so painfully, of me, and of my guilty. I try to block it out, but still he does shout. But then, all is well, for that bird now resides in hell, for I have cursed him too, like so many others, and now you. For as you read, your mind will bleed. Now a mocking bird will mock, and death will knock, As you feel my power and my pain, and all the sorrow I have gained. For a mocking bird sits upon your sill, so quiet, serene, and still... |
| "To Kill My Mockingbird" |
| ©2001 by Rebecca J. Burke & Hashbrown Casserole for the Matchbox Twenty Soul, Inc. |
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| Written on November 5, 1996. |