Once the paint dries, the thought of it being an issue fades away. It... no longer looks... 'black.'
Happiness follows. Follows, follows, follows... And that can't be right. There is always black. There is always white. In fact, I still herd the forbidden black sheep time to time.
What changed? What's wrong?
Is the change I search for not there? Am I just changing by falling further and further away from my sheep?
They are white, they are white. Paint it red. A deep, blood soaking red-
No! I cannot lose myself just yet! I cannot fall to the crazed abyss of my mind! My mind wishes for things I should never do!
1. Vlexw. Fv srt ohrxh vlexw, gy ernlomrv ovvwi loer swhxl. X vvr'x lsux xd opwl xl vr ecqvri tdzi ixloiv.
2. Espr. Xww phip gm e ljehr kdauk wd xhv xd zhvq izlqwtdciw- X ovyps flzig! A jsyavu'x hd kbgl p lomrv!
3. Dvzi. Tnlr mu A avc ig kmwbazw xwwzi xwgbklik P gecfvx fgauk qnklpj ig sszt efwiax. Tc htsypc qwssztv tmrs auwyalz qi, rmywih el, ers ehoih el mqpypri pds sj izlwi izprkh- ssp awasi lpnprk izl gvtsamzxlf tidhsi icbvc jggt qi.
I should not stay quiet. Yet, writing all of these things is just the same, isn't it?
Isn't it?
Thirty sheep pasted by and left. Thirty that you know of, plus any other lambs that could have trotted along.
Counting Sheep has not helped. Counting Sheep will never help...
Can I change? Can I stop thinking these things?! Please?! PLEASE?!
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...
