Macabre Bleats

hear the weeping of the sheep,
for they are awaiting
vivid laceration. 

chunks of their tongue,
split in half, burnt
and bruised. 

hear the crack of thunder,
as it hurls itself toward,
the loving barns where the
sheep rests.

Baa! Baa! the sheep screams,
but alas! the light didn't
break out yet!

listen to the tapping feet, while
the flock runs wild, for they
sniffed out the rotting
smell of blood
and bones. 

and they come out, only to see,
the half-eaten corpse of
their brethren,
and the bloodied claws
of the hyenas, their
fangs hooked to
their nape. 

MURDERERS! BUTCHERS!
they think to themselves.

a moment of vulnerability, coats
them with guilt and anguish,
and the remorse of not dying
at the hands of their lords,
washes over them,
tremendously. 

for the hyenas have grown a
palette for blood, and will
stop at nothing. 

when the dawn breaks out, the
shepherd steps out,
and gasps in
horror!

he witnesses a biblical eradication,
being made by a force,
mimicking the plots
of Satan, himself.

he falls to his knees, praying to his
Lord, begging for mercy,
but he knows, that the
damage made is
irremediable.

that wounded limbs heal faster,
than a wounded conscience.

Sultanul Arefeen is a third year student at Independent University, Bangladesh.