As I walk down a street
Opaque by street light
I see a man
As translucent as glass
He holds out his hand and whispers sadness
And guilt

I stand next to him as he whispers
He tells me of a murder
That was not his own
But of a bird

He told me of how happy he was of this bird
A songbird
Who sang delectable tunes of fortune and fame
Whose feathers were green and blue

He told me of how this song bird sang everyday
In a cage of gold
Singing of a freedom
When it thought no one was listening

He told me of how greed overtook him
And how he hid the songbird
Where no sunshine would reach it
Where its songs became those of a prisoner

He then told me of how he killed this songbird
How he dared to kill a mocking bird
How guilty he was of a nasty sin
How a person like him should wander the living world
As punishment for taking a life

What I wonder
Is if he saw the little bird
Perched on his shoulder
In all his guilty despair
Covered in blue and green feathers
Who looked at him with no judgment
And all the while he was whispering
It sang a song of forgiveness