Mocking you. That's what the sheep do, so small and fluffy and innocent but you know what they want, they want to be sheared, to be killed for to fill your belly, killed for their brain, you can sense it.

The sky is lavender with the tears of the sun, and only a speck of gold is in the world and it is you.

Upon plains of lilac, you walked, treading clumsily even though you should not have-the grass dares not mutter your name-for they are in awe, you know this and brain feeds another dose of love to you. The sheep are here, white and fluffy and with their little lean lambs, they peck and chew at the lilac grass and you just know that they are whispering thosegoodamnsheepwhodotheythinktheyareDOTHEYKNOWWHOYOUARE?

Evidently, they do not, for they chew.

And chew.

And chew.

And chew. It makes you sick really.

How dare they chew so callously? So..so…in such...MOCKING of you.

Alone. One little speck of speck of gold on the world and it is you.

Those sheep are beneath you, they shouldn't even have the right to look at you! Yes!

You're fractured.

You're sad-you miss the sheep that was almost golden it makes you weep and hurt and pain and your eyes sting your vision goes blurry you have a frown that stretches to your heart and it hurts as you sob out all the salt you have in you. It hurts.

-Above the sheep you are, little golden you. You only you only you only you only you only you only you only you only you only you only you lonely you only you only you only you only you only you only you only you are perfect...You want to be a sheep, that was the thought that burst into your brain for just a blink of your eyes and you crumbled the unwanted and threw him out.

Blink. A needle with the foulest (sweetest) poison. Blink. A lamb. To the gods of the never sun, the light, the knowledge that is outside the cave of the politicians and the ignorant. You're the only one who's seen it, thus only you could feed it. What confused you most though is how the lamb becomes your arm, oh well, a sacrifice is a sacrifice.

You find that your brain is gone.

It's brown and gooey and is full of holes and ROTTEN. The sun god was a lie.

You help the sheep, the lowly sheep, the sheep who are beneath you. You like fixing their messes. When they relive themselves you watch the sheep and you point out the one to blame and that sheep is shamed.

You see one perfect sheep and you are in love. His eyes are gold, he is not gold like you, true, but at least one part of him is.

You leave him soon, he is almost as gold as you and finally figured out why you were always so dreadfully alone among sheep.

There was only room in this lilac world for one gold man. You are old. Your gold leaf has been polished off and you can see your traitorous fluff.

You become a sheep. A white sheep among billions and billions of white sheep.

Far in the beginning of all, you knew there were two.