Dear Mockingjay Poem by Windsor Guadalupe Jr

Tattered as a cloth used
In wiping an infant’s disintegration
Or the threadbare skirt of an old woman’s
Chagrin

Used as a bottle of wine
Consumed by a drunkard
Who wined and dined and whined
About the bar’s over-priced pleasantries.

I deadpanned like an abandoned
Child – very morbidly wrong in every angle
Of sunken eyes and aloof smile.
The mockingjays are exhausted in every way.

Glide, hover – whichever you prefer
Dear Mockingjay, you will never make it
To the far seas without these hostile men
Tracking you down like treasures in trenches

Dear Mockingjay, do not let them catch you.
They are terrible people, and they sleep with
Different women, and alongside guns of different calibers –
Do not let them trifle with your decent flight.

Dear Mockingjay, they have terrible wives
Who blathered obnoxiously about neighbors along the way -
These women who know nothing about heart woes and defeat
And synthetic consolation – dear mockingjay, do not let them.

Fly – flutter like the last leaf of Summer
When autumn comes, you can soar as high and feverish
As the final distant streak of the Sun’s aurora
Dear Mockingjay, go – seek happiness
You deserve it. You do not deserve looking at yourself
In front of the mirror, thinking about poems that would
Soothe these disorders that hinder you from fluttering
Way away where no one could see you.