the favourite little lamb

I am literally the priests favourite sacrificial lamb because I am so docile and sweet and hold very still when they put the rope around my neck and trot along so happily while they lead me to the altar and they do not even have to tie me down because I lie so very still and only bleat once or twice in my lovely lamb voice and when the knife cuts through me it slides through like butter and I offer no resistance and I bleed so prettily over my new white wool and my guts unspool like the most beautiful shining yarn and my eyes are animal and dumb and hold no accusation and every time I die I come right back as another little lamb because the priest loves me so much and chooses me every time and he always places his hand on my small and twitching nose to calm me while he lifts the knife and he doesn’t do it for any of the other lambs only me because I am his favourite.

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