I have realized why I have always struggled.

Never seemed to fit in.

Stripes and feathers never quite matching others.

It was because I was not exactly their kind.

I was just created differently from the beginning.

I was just born to be a mockingbird.

***

A conglomeration of so many sounds.

My mother’s quick exclamations.

My father’s quiet rage.

All the voices ingrained in my head.

They have become a part of me.

I sometimes lose track of which sounds belong solely to me.

***

It is confusing to hear the familiar with the foreign.

Noises that mean one thing to me and another to you.

Echoes of life that could be yours or mine.

Both trying to connect in the only ways we both know.

On occasion I end up getting it right.

Those are the days where I am proud to be a mockingbird.