A Songbird To A Crow

I am not a songbird,

I do not sing songs of my own.

I am a raven,

A mockingbird,

A Crow.

I take your words and make them my own,

I cannot speak words for myself,

So I treasure the friends that do.

And perhaps, with their words I take a piece of them too,

I rely upon my friends to act,

I do not know how to on my own.

Leaving me will change me,

Akin to a mirror when the subject moves,

My words further reflect others,

To make up for the words lost.

I do not understand your thinking,

My reflection is often distorted to those around me,

Yet my wings are not a soft brown,

White on the undersides,

And streaked with black on the edges.

My wings shine black in the sun,

Reflective with their iridescent sheen,

The voices I echo are so clearly not my own,

Not so clearly to you I suppose.