Dear Mockingbird

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Dear Mockingbird outside my window,

Three weeks you have chripped and

three weeks I have been tortured.

Dear Mockingbird outside my window,

you are quite persistant and for that,

I tip my invisible hat. But there is 

something you must know, and so I 

tell you this from the bottom of my heart.

It's the big brested chicks the guys want.

They want the prettiest of feathers and nothing

less. The want to hear a song that makes them 

flutter. They want the best mate for survival.

Dear Mockingbird outside my window,

we are the same, well almost. I may not

have feathers or a beak. And I may not 

stay up all night chirping to the guy of my

dreams, but I too just want to be noticed.

Guys are jerks, my dear Mockingbird.

They'll smile, they'll wink, and they'll

play with your heart. But it's the girls,

whose clothes seemed to be falling 

apart, they whistle their happy tune for.

But hang in there dear Mockingbird,

because thanks to BP there are more

birds in the sky then there are fish in the sea.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

It's 1:05 in the morning and it's incredable out of nowhere I had the sudden urge to write about Mockingbirds.... -_____- OH MY FREAKING GD I JUST WANT TO SLEEP!!!! GAAAAAAAAAAH!!!

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