Dark and dismal,
We wait in line.
“Next!” We hear,
Waiting for our time.
We stand on the dirt,
Hands shackled and chained.
Wearing rags of clothing,
Only few of us remain.
Soldiers with armor,
Swords, shields and whips.
Hold us in the line,
Side by side hip to hip.
We hear the echo of roars,
And a thunderous applause.
Screams whilst the guards chuckle,
They say, “It’s for a good cause.”
“It’s because we are different,”
She before me turns, face to face.
Shackled before me,
She shrugs, “different is a disgrace.”
“Why are we here?”
I ask as we move ahead.
She turns to see the door,
“Entertainment is bloodshed.”
The doors are open,
The next walk to the ring.
Thousands surrounding cheering,
And a lion, paces while they sing.
Soldiers walk them out,
And chain them to the wall.
While others whip the bruised lion,
Growling in his stall.
As the doors finally shut,
We are quite and still in the dark.
I look to see my bruises,
Like him, I too am marked.
Chanting, clapping and drums,
Whips and screams of terror and pain.
Roaring and tearing replace the screams,
Till all blood was spilt and none left to drain.
The doors open,
And the dirt has turned red.
“Let’s go!” The soldiers yell,
Hitting us on the head.
The few start to move forward,
“it is now our time.”
She says turning for one last look,
Being different our only crime.
The doors open and sun is blinding,
My eyes start to adjust.
My feet shuffle forward,
Over the reddened dust.
We are lead to the wall,
Stained red, chains clink as they cheer.
The crowed elegantly dressed,
As royalty appears.
“Your king thanks you,”
He lifts his hand up.
The doors shut from where we came,
And the cheering begins to erupt.
He looks down on us,
“Your sacrifice brings us joy!
“Thank-you,” He nods pointing to the lion,
“Release the boy!”
The ground begins to tumble,
As the king takes his seat.
She turns to me, shackled as I,
“To death we will greet.”
The lions gate opens,
He roars to the sky!
Covered in scars and bruises,
His eyes, wanting to die.
He starts to approach,
They stab into his chin.
Abused just as we,
Broken to the bone very thin.
Crowd is yelling and chanting
as I hold his eye,
Such sorrow for this soul,
He’s stabbed, “make them die!”
Our gaze never broke,
As he arrive at my feet.
Warm breath on my skin,
As a tear in my eye comes to greet.
“I’m so sorry,” looking at him,
He stopped and stepped back,
“Everything they’ve forced on you,
You too are attacked.
You’re just like us,
We are unique, different not of men.
Because of that they are afraid,
And we become the condemned.”
The crowd becomes impatient,
Starting to cast stones.
The lion's gaze innocent,
As he softly moans.
He lets out a roar,
As he stands by my side.
He takes a seat,
And holds his pride.
They start to boo,
And the king takes his stand.
“Guard’s kill them all!”
Giving them his command.
Here we stand still and quite,
Swords yelling as they run.
We hold our heads up,
Softly start to hum.
As we close our eyes,
Our bodies receive the blow.
The noise become silent,
Darkness replaced with a glow.
We are not of that world,
But now were alone.
We were never intended for it,
Heaven is the only home.
Sent there by mistake,
Our fragileness is to much.
Because our hands are to pure,
Only deserving of a heavenly touch.
There are few of us,
All mistreated for the world being wrong.
But the truth behind it?
There, we never did belong.
A world of hardness and hate,
Where we are endlessly crying.
That’s the story,
Of the true lamb and lion.
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