Enshrouded Serenade

I am a Lamb, bound to slaughter

Bound and gagged, unable to shout.

The knife is sharp, the blade is cold,

I feel my lifeblood slowly ebb.

 

The voices in my head scream,

No, they howl:
"Why is it you do this to me?"

Though I cannot speak, nor move,

As I am trapped in silent agony.

 

Words etched deep in my being,

Deeper than I ever have been.

Stacked upon each other,

My feelings lay,

Forever waiting to be expressed.

 

Ticking bombs inside me,

Never being lit,

Always in dormant state,

I wonder what is it,

that keeps me quiescent.

 

I am not a Lamb.

I am not whatt I intended to be,

How can one hate its own genesis?