A Sheep Sent to Slaughter

‎What a murderer,
‎One who put an end to a life
‎Once breathing with the same flesh and blood as he,
‎Yet he pulled the trigger and ended her—
‎A girl with broken rose-colored glasses,
‎With glassy eyes now cloudy, with a fly sipping
‎The last unshed tear death refused to let fall.
‎
‎She was once a dreamer, for she believed
‎She didn't have a voice so she didn't dare speak
‎No matter how unjust things were, all she did was weep,
‎And so she dreamed, for it's the only place
‎She can find solace and peace.
‎
‎At such a young age, she was trained to comply,
‎To not meddle or pry, to never ask "Why?"
‎She was forced to take a path already taken,
‎Worn-out by shoes of thousands of men and women,
‎For she was taught they know better,
‎So she shouldn't even look within.
‎
‎Yet her own inquisitiveness led her astray,
‎Deviated from the well-trodden path and followed
‎A dim-lit road she saw her guardians take,
‎And there, she saw their haunting faces grimacing, twisted by sins,
‎So she was sent to condemnation for being a witness.
‎For being the offspring of sinners,
‎As if she was the one who sinned.
‎
‎So she stood there as if guilty,
‎Past lessons of obedience testing her sanity,
‎Her glasses breaking, for she's now seeing reality:
‎She's just a pitiable victim, blamed for the sins of another, for she is younger.
‎A sheep, an easy sacrifice, a blinded follower.

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