The Mockingbird

The boy inside watches the bird at the window
As it dances on the sill to and fro.
A tear rolls down the boy's soft cheek
As the couple smile away a wasted week.

The mockingbird sings at the boy,
Its tufted feathers flutter as it twitters with joy.
The boy can't help much but feel hate
For the man and woman who walk away and pass the gate.

The grey wings with white tips poke into the air
As the bird bows before the bleary-eyed kid
Who does naught but stare
At a set of potential parents who don't want this specific kid.

The boy listens to the lilted song of the bird,
The shrieking cry of the mockingbird.
The boy watches the lonely dance of the bird,
And he hates the mocking bird.