Mockingbird you mock me through gated protection. And spit in my face with careless ease. How sweet the feeling of freedom must be to parade thus in sight of day. Careless because no one cares. Do I fear the wrath of the myriad of eyes above… below? Have I shown evidence of this fact? I will answer for myself, I have not. Remaining true to the mold that was my creator, but not my father. I am now my own guide, decisions made with whimsical thought. I glance at the idol as I murder the mockingbird with a smile. It had been done before, many times over in my mind. The doing was that much sweeter.