Random Thought
Read Count : 105
Category : Poems
Sub Category : N/A
As I sleep, I dream of sheep I have not counted.
They roam ever onwards across the globe, spreading.
Once a resource, they became the plague. Their shepherd breeds out of pain, turns the black ones out of shame.
The flock worships the shepherd with fear and he gladly accepts it as love.
The trick here kid, is to keep your sheep docile and terrified. Abuse their weak while the strong can do nothing but watch.
What could Superman do if Lois Lane died of cancer? Does the shepherd weep for the individual lost, or weep for the lack of power to be all controling?
