Tuesday, February 02, 2010

Greener Pastures

"My dear, I don't give a damn,"
Said the sheep that was being raised by wolves.
They had her looking this way
And that way.
Never finding the patch of grass
That would prove to be the most nutritious.
It was always out of reach,
On the other side of the fence.
She would be forced to don the skin of wolves,
And tear into the flesh of other sheep like herself
To get her allotted amount of protein,
To keep herself alive.
And the wolves return her sentiment
In fewer words
That are well-disguised as caring
And understanding.
Before, she used to kid herself
That the wolf skin she tied on every day
Was her real skin,
Was the way she was supposed to look,
The code of conduct she was supposed to follow,
The fun she was supposed to have,
The burden that she was supposed to bear.
Then Fun became Pain,
Conduct became Optional,
Burden became Death,
And the skin became just that:
A covering of who she really was.
And she realized
The grass on the other side,
Isn't always green.