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You.
You came to us, longing to start anew
We let you in, like all wrecks do
But not in too deep:
Not to the point where you'd know about the strangers beneath,
The black sheep.

You got misguided towards the better part, the packs
We weren't surprised
After all, you were trained to do that
It was only a matter of time before they advised you against us,
Before you were baptised.
But wouldn't you have wished to know, we were there:
Clad in calm, I mirrored the snarl -
And you and your beasts saw kin, not prey
Until it was too late.
You spent hours looking for black sheep amongst the herds, a break through
But doesn't black blend beautifully with slate?
We were
                  a
            m
     o
n
g    
s        
t            
you.
And then you saw them:
My people, my family, my friends
And growled, whining for help
Not knowing I'd aid them instead.

But this wasn't enough of a break through (ours, not yours)
We didn't have what we needed
Didn't like the cards we were dealt
So we stayed hidden all this time
My boys, my girls and I
And bid our time till the clock struck midnight
Till we were free from your ties

That's when the lights f l i c k e r e d

Oh, what a silent soul
What a blatant light
What a piteous cause
Turned to dynamite
You thought you saw us?
Well, now you do
At the head of the forest
They said we didn't belong to
Best of all, we shook you
By doing better that what they'd asserted they'd do
And the rest have grown to love us
More than they'd ever loved you.
Based on a little story I made in my head ;)
Little sheep so
Soft and cuddly
Happy and free
And fluffy as can be
Eating the grass
Ever so cute and
Playing with glee.
Little sheep 🐑
Bekah Halle Jun 22
I take you everywhere I go
I take you everywhere, slow.

The sun sets to sleep,
The last of its rays reach the backs of the sheep.

From golden sun,
To rose-red set.

What's left of the turquoise blue sky,
Humming out its lullaby.

The cows mo(O)ve us on,
And the roadside trucks rattle strong;
Carrying next night meals to the city gone.

I take you everywhere I go,
Searching high and low.

You're all around, this I know.
alex Jun 8
Why? you ask,
Why do you hide?
For protection-
because it’s safer,
than being seen.

If all I must do is lie,
wear a snarling mask,
bare sharp teeth
so they don’t hurt me,
I will.

I’ve learned to walk
like I belong with the pack,
echo their growls,
So they
keep their distance.

I pretend to be the ones I’ve feared,
I hunt and harm,
not because I want to,
but to hide
among the wolves of the world.

But still-
to lie for protection
does not make me good,
So, really,
I am no better than a wolf
in sheep’s clothing.
Reece May 8
The hill I will die on,
Is that most battlefields aren’t worth dying on.
Some people see a mob,
And grab their pitchforks and their torches,
Without even understanding,
What they’re fighting for.
Perhaps they love the bloodshed,
Perhaps they love the gore,
Perhaps they feel righteous indignation,
And are adamant to settle the score.
It could be some primal need to fight,
Or some could be sure that they’re right.
Either way, I don’t see the point,
I understand that sometimes a war is just,
Most times, it feels like a bust.
A waste of money,
A waste of time,
A waste of precious human lives.
All for what? Some measly land?
How greed corrupts the righteous hands.
So the hill I will die on,
Is that some battles aren’t worth fighting,
That they aren’t worth the pain.
The lives they ruin,
The families they break,
The friendships covered in contusions,
The human souls that are broken and bruised.
All for what?
Arcassin B Mar 19
"Whatever we convey to you,
You think we're lying,
Better get real familiar cause loose ends are tying,
They love politics and the underlying,
You understand the half without innersighting,
Better get acquainted with the chakra finding,
Lacking discipline, cut out all that trauma dumping,
They tried to block the energy , there is no stopping,
Collecting all the data that they store like shopping"....

(full poem in link below)
https://arcassin.blogspot.com/2025/03/feedback.html
Aaron Beedle Mar 17
The slender shades that eyes evade.
Pushing, rolling, breaking, fixing.
Working hard, draining days.
Thrashing, mauling, tweaking, cringing.
Crying pleas, the beggars' seal,
a veteran voice of tired appeal.

The pheromones of filthy beasts,
riches of the silver peaks,
a cocktail made to quench the thirst of the class that comes in first.
And off with the shades in a wooden hearse.

They find the fact the sun will shine down into worlds
of salt and lime a relieving sign, of better times,
but sedated is this state of hope and with it their ambitions broke.
Light indeed is what they are, of coin and health and lands afar.
And in this state of steam and shadows,
they long for rules and signs and arrows.
About: Being working class and selling your time off for a tiny amount of money and not questioning the state of things.
All thoughts considered,
It's all possible,
The sheep put on wolf's clothing,
Just to ward the wolves away.
Could be
Emery Feine Mar 2
Is a sheep no longer innocent
When it has grown up with wolves
When its fleece is no longer white
When it is stained with blood?

Is it justifiable when it kills
If it weeps afterwards
If it kills to eat
If it kills to live

Is the sheep no longer pure
When it is in a wolf’s fur
When blood drips down its teeth
The same blood in its heart

And when that “sheep” is torn apart
And left to die in the wood
Will its pack remember it as one of them
Will it be remembered as a wolf?
“In all our lives, there is a fall from innocence. A time after which, we are never the same.” -Patrick Rothfuss
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