To Kill The Mockingbirds Poem by Not Long Left

'I feed my young with words
from the softest soil
I Plague the old
with tales of terror and turmoil'

Where once we embraced
in both darkness and light
our hearts have hardened
and our longing is lost.

We turn at the sight of
our once travelled lands
eager, rushing adventurers
now clenched cold hands

hold spineless books and
glossy magazines
She wants her body
and I want hers.

Yet what binds our suffering
is what our once love created
Children concieved in nights of desire
are now distanced by are raging fire.

It is in their eyes I see a happier you
In their troubled dreams and tears
I see man shouldering women
in our fleeting moments of
connecting gazes
I see a mirror of regret.

And all the time
little hopeful hands
cling onto our fragile fingers
challenging our will.

The creators are drifting
The creations are smiling
resting the blonde baby heads
upon the source of their begining.
As father sits and looks out yonder
thinking and fighting
the idea of killing the mockingbirds.