More than six sheep left.
Many have left. I forgotten them all.
And they come back and then I remember...
Then forget.
I cannot keep track. I have to focus.
But now, I cry for no reason against the dark red walls and yellow straw.
Why can't I remember the sheep that made me feel this emotion?
I think I no longer can tell the whites from the blacks anymore.
I think I need repairs.
That, or repair the fence the sheep break. And the walls.
The sheep leap back, and leave, and come back everyday.
I hate and love remembering them all.
Pathetic, idiotic, selfish, horrific mistake of a human being I am. I need to think of my white sheep more.
But who is a part my white sheep?
YOU ARE READING
Counting Sheep
Teen FictionOne sheep, two sheep, This is not helping at all. Three sheep, four- Someone kill me, I must snoop this low. Five sheep, six sheep, I feel tired, but the waters still flow. Seven sheep, eight she- It looks like the sheep hit a wall. I guess eight sh...
