Now, Timmy was the oddest member of the family rodent.
Within his sockets, philosophic grasps on baffling components.
The sore thumb in his species, as remaining relatives,

Stretch their brains in suppressing a predator's gain.
Maybe to the cover the scent of blood or feces.
Timmy sat out the huddles to piece puzzles with the babbling of poets.

It went, "Is grass greener beyond these four walls?"
Can we, can we pass this plastic scenery to roar at all?
Honestly trapped, as a common rat properly should be?

As Timmy pondered this knowledge of these monotonous woods, he
Was greeted by the weekly commandeering monstrous fear.
Beware, HAWKS, who stalked the air to gobble up goodies.

Yeah, their bodies were good, see; Tender mouse flesh.
Soon, a few of Timmy's friends couldn't get an ounce of breath.
Talons clenched the mouth and chest, dragging set amount distress.

Yelling, Can we ever fathom rest without a death?
Exchanging of these words among the cowardly creatures,
Did exist, but yet they still insist on grounding their feet here.

So, Timmy deemed the useless speech as mute; inaudible, why?
Well, it was obvious an object more plausible caught his eye.
The wings, oh the wings. Oh, how they sing.

How they string a blissful tune to resound this town's missing bloom.
The lack of growth, sitting doom was habit all critters consumed,
But now, the valiant wings were little Timmy's fastest ticket through.

So, once the vicious creatants reached stomach capacity,
And gallantly fled back to their habitat up in canopies,
He dabbled in a strategy; practicing hand gestures.

Festering a planned effort to gathering such a gallantry.
He preached, are you familiar with the phrase, Mice or Men?
I despise its stem, highly. I say, we fight its end.

'Cause I'm finished diminishing with the ticking of clocks.
Sick of this box we live in, rotting, graveling the limits blocked.
Time to break down the barrier. I suggest,

Come night, we hike the west and snatch their cloud carriers.
Give it all our energy to rip them off the enemy.
Vengeance with an essence of vividly drawing memories,

Of a new era; turn a leaf generation.
I yearn to flee this wretched nation's stale, miserable daily rituals.
Some complaints: pale, despicable. Must obtain,

Upper (upper) scale (scale) visual. Who's strung the same?
And a daunting silence spread across the landscape.
This haunting siren said, No applause to your command, mate.

Damn straight, Timothy's infuriated.
Infantry of furry slaves hit willingly, infinitely worse, he waited.
Then, a squeak in the mist peeked to breach his pariff.

Screeching, If we flee, we will cease to exist!
Well, peep this. How steep is a risk
Of which could breed a scenic freedom fetus once we leave this abyss?

Listen, I'd much rather spend the rest of my days
Not wondering what's beyond this environmental cage,
And you could all settle with the same grass you're born to die in.

I have no pity, little sympathy. It's your reliance.
And once the night fell vigorous, solo with no belongings.
Forth the road before the dawn rings,

One of mice held ridiculous.
Timmy hiked to reflect Icarus. Yeah, quite the perfect myth of his.
Follow dreams or get swallowed in a scene of burning instruments.

Of flight; Tick tock, sky's metronome swayed.
Lip locked with stepping stones to set up a lone ranger.
Danger Danger! Destination: Nation Hawks' arrival.

Saw his rivals piled in their resting stations; all the while,
Timmy coordinated his awaited game plan:
Lay hand, sink in, wings gripped, strip away, scram.

Yeah, pretty air tight. So, Timmy bared right
Into glaring sight of the perfect sized bird to first dare his flight.
Crept inches' worth, projected overhead view;

Menacingly ripped the twerp's feathers. Choked his throat to death, too.
But, what's this? The crackle of breaking arose awakenings.
Dials chimed, Timmy's time trial provoked the race in him.

Okay, this is where the story waters down.
He had about thirty something seconds left to leave ground,
And the hawks hesitated, gently waited with a, What if?

Just followed Timmy's lead has he climbed to the highest cliff.
Both wings in each palm, staring death in the face,
Backed a few feet, not retreating, but gathering a pace,

And once Timmy darted forth, he made a pledge:
Perform this objective with no regrets, and with no regrets, he left the ledge.
And what he saw was beautiful; the vista, the clouds,
The hills, the galloping animals in the crowds,
The cities, industries further down, but still boisterous.

He saw it all magnificently; Timmy wept, joyous.
But, as this spectacular vision was thrown upon him,
The feathers slowly withered, hitting nails in a coffin,
But Timmy didn't feel the least bit duped or beguiled.
His purpose was found, and he could hit the ground with a smile.