privileged entitlement

In the barn, I wear white. I may not know it now but it is the last time I'll ever wear something so innocent. Late in the dark night, cold air hits my face. A little lamb, freshly born. But some things are not quite right. It's sick and twisted, four eyes and a missing limb. Everything around is disturbed, and moves away. Its own mother refuses it milk, and leaves it for dead. I can't help but wonder why Why did the lamb have to be this way? I allow it in my arms, and share a piece of my sympathy. While at the same time, being disgusted as its body withers in my arms. The lamb doesn't notice. Doesn't know any better. It looks up at me with those beady eyes And it makes me horrified. I'm no better than an animal. I'm so cruel, I grab a knife on the table. What am I doing? What am I thinking? I'm no better than an animal, and I'm just as bad as a man. My small hand trembles, and I'll count to ten. The lamb looks peaceful, in my lap. It almost makes me feel bad. But I bring my hands above my head Despite me knowing its wrong And rip away the lamb's life. It shrieks and cries And I just slash harder. Until I get it to be quiet. My own hands, in this own barn. I've killed something. Something that could've lived. My white dress is stained red, and I turn away. The air isn't so cold Maybe it's the lamb's blood on my hands? Or maybe I can just pretend It's the lamb saying thanks. Where did this entitlement come from? That I am so much above this little lamb I will give it what I deem freedom of death? Just because the little lamb Can't tell me no. And because it was different I decided to let it go. My tears don't matter They won't make up for what I just did. Mother nature's own product That I deemed unperfect. It's too late now, what's done is done And I don't even have the decency To even Bury it. I truly am a man, aren't I?