A Sacrificial Lamb

Sacrificial Lamb

Sacrificial Lamb

 

 

 

 

 

 

Awake, yet in a dream, his sour youth,

full of stubborn pride and corruption,

a soul lost and found in the bargain bin

of others strives.

 

Had he let them pass him by, just

maybe the winds of tomorrow’s morning

calm may have lifted him like a kite into

a lofty flight of happiness and fly him

away to safety.

 

Oh the crying nuns, so tender were they

to this chapel boy, healing the wounds

inflicted that caused a dying whimper

by the priest, his sacred robes, torn

and wretched, pealing from his broken

sacraments.

 

The chapel bells rung loud that eve,

inviting all the mourners to come to

mass and take the silent prayers

offered by his holiness, while lost

within the crucifixion, blood

dripped from the wounds exposed,

this boy lay thrashed and stripped

to the bone.

 

A price so high to pay for saying

no forevermore to those who wanted

him to be their slave, abide and call

them master, and obedient to their

every whim, bowing before the alter

of humility, washed in the blood of

an atheist, this boy paid the price of

being not who they wanted him to be.

 

So tortured with self-doubt and fear,

this lad of only twelve short years,

gave his last and best to those who

trampled his heart in the gutters of

rat infested alleys, they used and

abused his kindness, yet demanding

that he never tell, keep the secret,

or his soul be dammed to hell

for eternity.

 

Like many others taken in by the

nuns, they hid him for as long as

they could, before the robed devils

in scarlet’s and gold tunics dragged

him to their beds, he the sacrificial

lamb bled on their alter and died.

Vincent Moore 2015


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