innocence

A lamb white as snow Resting in flowers, by trees, in shade, Decorated with pink bows, She sits and waits and watches As the world goes by, Stuck in a fense, Trapped in sanctity. She yearns for freedom, For experience, And for that she is scolded, For that she is told Her wool is worth less Her safety is temporary. But she persists. She wants to run, To feel, To love. And for that she is sold. Her pretty pink ribbons replaced with tags and her safety traded for cash. She is told it's her fault for wanting more, her death was in her hands and now the butcher is her cost. Back in the flowers, trees, and shade, A new lamb in purple bows is laid.