THE BLUEBIRD CHIRPS
A nice blue bird
sits nightly on its perch.
He chirps and sings
the opinions of many.
The happy, the sad,
the good and the bad.
Reflecting and thinking
of that day gone by.
Then at once he changed,
he became meaner,
and louder.
He went dormant all night,
becoming vibrant at dawn.
Attacks without basis,
he must be watching the comics.
Dawn is for children,
yelling solely to be heard.
No statements constructed on fact,
but solely on what the roadrunner said.
By The Northern Rose
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