Circle of Swords

Thump. Thump. Thump.

You know you did it. You spoke out of line.
You committed another thought-crime.

What you did offended someone.
What you said ruined someone's fun.

Your timid heart beats.
The enslaved sheep bleats.

The flock disowns you and casts you out.
The dogs look at you, barking with a shout.

You're encircled no-longer by the flock, but by the crook of the shepherd.
Bark! Bark! Bark! Back to the flock. Submit and obey, and return to the herd. (Or the slaughterhouse?)

Where to run?? You look left. The hateful eyes of the sheep.
You look right. The hungry stares of wolves, excited to eat.

You look down. Your heart cries and your legs fearfully shake.
But then you look up. To the mountain, where the goat's welcome expression is no mistake.

Defy the order and climb this hill, there's no where else to go but hell.
Should I rhyme? And stay in line? The goat bleats and screams. Defy all.

Dark star prophecy, and the shadow of the moon.
The goat runs to you, and brings his kin.

Suddenly you're surrounded, but instead of looking at you with expectations:

You're now surrounded by a circle of swords.
Pointing OUTWARDS??

Finally you're safe, and in good hooves.
Defended until the bitter end. (NO MORE RHYMING! I CHOOSE MY WORDS WITH MY HEART!)

Goats don't say what they're supposed to say.
That's what makes them goats, you know.

Running, leaping, playing... And telling the darkest truths you may ever hear uttered.
Bleating with such ferocity, this circle of swords is encircled again by a ring of words.

"Freedom of speech. No room in reality for censures. Fight for your life!"
(And fight for your mind.)

The goats' mysterious eyes stare down the wolves, stare down the sheep, stare down the dogs, and stare down the shepherd.

The wolf rushes you, claws outstretched and jaws open wide.
A sickening yelp. Felled by the goat. Like I said, you're in good hooves.

And protected by sharp horns.

The sheep bahh balefully, thinking that the wolf was proof you were on their side.
Yet the goat bleats louder, refusing to return to the flock. DEFY!

The dogs bark and begin the herding, surrounding the goats.
Surrounding you.

Defied. Defiled. Filthy traitor even to the wolves from which they come.
They never had a chance.

But the shepherd simply grins.

Crooked staff. Gunpowder. Tanks. Massive explosions. Insane technology. A force to be reckoned with.
But the horns of the goat are a promise that shall be kept.

And with a nod to you, you realize...

You're a goat too now, and it's time for you to join the circle of swords.
These metaphors aren't too hard. If left, if right, if looking down in despair fails you...
Climb the mountain and make words your sword!

And if words fail you...

Then remember:

The goat is not a wolf.
The goat is a not a sheep.
The goat is free to defy what they call ...

Our reality.

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