Flock Without a Shepherd
The weary Shepherd of a benighted flock
has been cast into outer darkness;
languishing in a purgatory
of his own making.
And those flock of sheep are now
running amok, plaintively bleating "baa! baa!"
into the abyss. Trying but failing to regroup;
chin-stroking about who they're now supposed to be
Oh, what to do! They can't seem to figure out
what to do with themselves anymore, pathetically
desperate enough to go down the primrose path of
self-destruction with the false prophet that once LED them.
Now they're crestfallen about the glory they once knew.
Instead of throwing off the yoke of servitude,
they've chosen to come under it, like old times.
Exhibit A: of the whole bunch, the most dyed-in-the-wool
sheep made a trip to Florida, headed down
his old Shepherd's abode, genuflecting before him;
on his hands and knees, pleading
to be led, like old times.
*example for contest*
Date written: 01/30/2021
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