i'm literally the priest's favorite sacrificial lamb because i am so docile and sweet and i hold very still when they put the rope around my neck and i trot along so happily while they lead me to the altar and they do not even have to tie me down because i lie so very still and only bleat once or twice in my lovely lamb voice and when the knife comes down it cuts through me like butter and i offer no resistance and i bleed so prettily all over my new white wool and my guts all unspool like the most beautiful shining yarn and my eyes are animal and dumb and hold no accusation and every time i die i come right back as another little lamb because the priest loves me so so much and he always chooses me for the sacrifice every time and he always places one hand on my small and twitching nose to calm me while he lifts the knife and he doesn't do it for the other lambs only me because i'm his favorite
i have never been the priest's favorite sacrificial lamb no matter how much i trot towards the front or linger near the rope to show the priest how pretty it would look against my wool and no one else's and even when i pick up the spool in my delicate small mouth to bring to you when you forget you only pat me on my soft lamb head to thank me for being so good and so kind but never good enough because you slip the loop around her neck and not mine and i never bleat in complaint because i've seen your favorite sacrificial lambs and they don't know how to bleat out of turn and so when the bell tolls and your boots echo down the rusted rotten steps to fill our feed i sit pristinely at your feet the way your last favorite did and lay my little lamb head on your boots made from some other animal's sacrifice and i pray you see how kind i am in letting the other lambs take my share because i won't need it anyway when you choose me to be the sacrifice this time but you don't and you won't and even when i scratch my beautiful soft skin on the rusted metal to show you how pretty my blood could look on my white wool you only patch me up and choose another and it's not me and it'll never be me because my skin is too blemished and my blood has been let and the best sacrificial lambs don't have to study their sisters to be the priest's favorite sacrificial lamb at all
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and everytime her blood spills over the altar my sisters huddle around and bleat in thanks and prayer but i am silent and i will always be silent because if i can't be your favorite then i'll be the most quiet and demure of them all
