Mark Heathcote

Gold Star - 29,968 Points (22/03/66 / Manchester)

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 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 it so frightens me
When its heart hadn’t done 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.

Topic(s) of this poem: poem

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Poem Submitted: Wednesday, October 28, 2015

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