a lamb without its flock
tell me what a lamb is meant to do without the guidance of its shepherd? when the wolves come scratching and the cold is biting, where am i meant to turn?
so docile and soft. a pious lamb i am, with fluffy hair and that pink nose. and though kind, my eyes will never meet yours. no... there's a quiet reverence in that downturned gaze.
even now moreso with hands clasped and knees to the tile, and when the light shines on such a soft face, you would almost think yourself staring at something ethereal. for a moment, only a moment, you'd forget that i am only mean to be a simple lamb. plain and unassuming in every way.
you know that i am far too soft, far too innocent for what the world outside these holy walls may hold. and when i smile at you it only makes it even more apparent what you have to do. you can't just let this lamb wander out to the woods. you have to be that gentle force.
a steward, a shepherd, a priest.
a lamb will find its flock.
β
my story isn't anything interesting or bizarre, i have no real life experiences to draw from either, sorry! at most, i am a sweet but skittish girl trying to figure out the tangled mess of new feelings i find myself in while unwrapping my mixed conflicts of shame and guilt along the way π all i really am is a late bloomer unpacking a repressed upbringing and thats all i hope to explore
need to know: i dont respond well to aggression, im 19 and a virgin
limits: scat, blood, puke, violence, animals