Work Text:
When I was young, I lived on a farm.
We had pigs, bulls, more- the most important, though, were sheep. At least to me.
Sheep have always been my favorite. Lambs, specifically. Innocent, afraid, soft.
My father tells a story like it's funny
Of when I was a toddler,
a ram rammed me into the fence. (laugh at the double word)
And I told him to turn it into food.
I guess he was shocked by my harshness.
I don't know why he would be shocked.
I learned it from him.
Any pain or grief I caused him
Would be returned tenfold with yelling and fear
Leaving me cowering, clutching a lamb plush close to my chest.
I guess I've always liked lambs.
Innocent followers of shepards.
Perfect representations of our God.
The image of weakness, purity.
Shepards are said to lead a flock
They are depicted as guardians
The shepard that cares for and raises the lamb-
Is the very same one who butchers it
They say the meat of a lamb is delicious.
The meat of a fully-grown sheep can't compare.
Flavour lies in innocence. In Fear.
I guess I'm not good anymore.