The lamb that the monster raised have all grown
to show that their fangs are much longer, much sharper
than those of the wolves that infiltrated their ranks.
They gnash and bite and bleed, tearing at their own flesh
and forgetting those silly and outdated decrees
that were passed down from generation to generation,
in symbols and thick magazines with funny names;
forgetting those words that they wear proudly branded
upon their wrists and upon the scruffs of their necks;
forgetting those promises made to all of the nameless shepherds
who have all gone now anyway...
... and yet the monster remains silent.