The Slaughter Of The Lamb Poem by Mark Heathcote

The slaughter of the lamb
Had me shocked at the slaughterhouse, when I was left alone
Seeing it tied mouth down to the chrome table
Blood after the cutting, running like a river
And the thing is still alive, not drowned
The slaughter of the lamb frightened me.

Raging eyes drifting into sleep, without a bleep
Thoughts go running wildly, what if that was me
Blood after the cutting, running like a red river
Flies hung hungry hovering around for what they see as a sea
What if this was one day, meant for me?

The slaughter of the lamb so frightens me
When its heart hadn't stopped beating yet
I thought what if that was I dragged from the field
Only to die, drown in a red sea
Oh, the slaughter of the lamb, it sure did frighten me.