The sheep have flocked to the water’s edge
and now they weep
not knowing how to swim.
Above them in the usual skies, a crow
caws mockingly:
Fools! You were herded here by lies!
But now the sheep have come to love
the melodrama of
their bleating cries. Don’t judge, wallow
in the comfort of a group-think nudge.
Sheep will be sheep—
still, it’s hard to sympathize.
.
.
mores-the-pity
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