Mockingbirds will raise a hue and cry if they see a hawk
Screeching to anyone who will listen before leading an assault
I saw one the other day attacking a hawk perched near its nest
Its cries had attracted only one other bird
And its dives and slashing attacks did not seem to faze the hawk
The raptor sat there, unbothered, as something smaller and weaker broke against it
There are times in my life when I have felt like the hawk
But now, and for the recent past, I feel like the mockingbird
Throwing myself, screaming, at those who would eat me
While they blithely sit there, growing stronger even as my strength flags

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