perspective

oh, the bile spewed by a lamb with no limb to stand.  
it thinks itself a wolf with jelly fangs, bark but incapable of bite.  
ẏ̵̡͓̤̬̝̜̼̟̈́͗̓̑̈́͒̈̏̈͘͘͠ͅo̴̡̧̨̺̬͚̳̥͍͉̯͔̩͌̆̓̈́̐̓̑͋̂ư̷̘͇͖͇̐͊͑̀̉̿̅ ̵̧̥͖̫̀̆̈̏̿͊͘ḑ̵̜̯͔̠͉̠̟̹̯̠͙̞͌̈́̉̿͒́̇̈́̋̕ợ̴̡͕̤̩̲̲̠̼͛̀̂̔͊͌͗͋͌́͝ṋ̸͎̜̥̟̌̓͊͌̿'̵̤́͋͗̏̂̀̓͜t̴̛̺̟͇̗͓̲̭̒͒̌̏͝ ̴̡̼͙̯͎̉d̸̠̝͇̻́̀ę̵̡̝̩̹̜̌̽́́͠͠s̴̳̽̓̎͛͊̉̓̏̔̾ȩ̷̧͚̖̝̳̩̗̻͈̙͒̉̓͂̎́̄͘r̵̢̠͈͔̹̺̾͋̂̄̕v̶̨͌̽͊e̵̢̪̟͓͇͕̦͛͋̓̅̆̇̒̏̌̂̃̕͜ ̸̢̣͍̘͛͘̕͜ͅḩ̸̨̹̱͔̗̮̗̞̤̥͈̓͊͝į̵̤̱̯̺̣̖̔̋̐̆̀́͂̏̈́̓͊̕m̴̢̘̘̞͓̹͎͙̠̲̈͌̌.̸̢̻͔̤͉̺̤̂̉̐̎̌̿̃̐́͘ͅ  
 
 
and oh, how simple, how fragile this heart has become.  
to attempt to set down the claws, to forget the desperation  
 of survival and the mistrust of those until proven so.  
 and yet, they slipped past your radar - such a clever little lamb.  
h̸̙̥̄͗͋͂̃̔́̅̿̕͠ê̸̗͈͓̞̞͍͚͇͔̰͖̤̌̈̇̊̏̊͂͐̊̇͠ ̷̧͓͇̻̙͓̭̠̹̆̌̔̄̓͑d̶̙̥̲͈̝̖̬͑̈́̌̓̈͠ͅě̴̪̲͇̣̳̭͔̊̆̃̑͌̏͘͝s̴̛̖̣̋̂̀̆̍̏͑e̶̬͛͐r̸̛͈̬̩̫̫̼̓͛̀̈́̿̓̎͑͑̀̕͝v̸̹̹̣͕̪̣͇̜̰͐̌̓̀̓̾́̑̽̌̕ĕ̴͈̳̬̗̽́͌̾͌͆͆̄͌͝s̷͖͆̚̚ ̶͕̗̲̜͉̺̳̗͋̂̎̾̌͊̍̂̅̔̕͝ș̶̠͕̙̳͖̟̘͗̓̍̅o̶̹̍͆̀̃̒͑̑͌̆m̸̖̠̺̏̄̈́́̊͆̌ę̴̡͖̫̼̭͇͚̝͓̼͖͕̀͂͆͊̕͠ǒ̸̤̖͙̻̰̤͚̻̰̱͋̋̈́͒̑̌̓͘͝ṇ̵̹̖͚̮̜̖̗͓̥͋̿̀̇̓̌͒̏̌͗́e̷̳̓̈́͠ ̷̧̢͚̖͔̬̼͖̬͔̈́͊̐̒̍͐́̎̌̇̚̚b̶̢͈͈̠̟̝̝̂̈̽̆̾̇͝ė̸̢͕̞̖̳̗̘͈̤̝t̸̡̧̧͚̠̺̼̥̮̠̮̠͗̂̍͐̌̎͛̊̃̒́̅̕t̴̨̢͇̞̬̠̳̜̗͙͌̆̂̚͜͜͝ȩ̶̪͙͚͖̟̺̬̤̦̪̣̯͑̂̑́̌̄̎̑ŕ̴̛̬̭̼͕̻̘̥̃̈́̇̈́̔͝  
 
and the words, they burrow like earwigs, whispering,  
whispering, whispering. they want you to call an end,  
take your final bow. [how could one little lamb reduce  
you to this?] and to forget the pinnacle you have already climbed.  
 
y̶̢̧̯͇̖̲͌̊͗̍̚o̷̺͖̗̱̟̼̪͒͛̉͘ú̶̢̺̼̩̭̼͍͈̟͙̎̎͊̈́̈̽͜d̴̛̼̪̲̘̫̭͕͔̟̪͋̇̾̃̂́͘o̶͎͇͙̥͓̰̭͕̲̗̮͛͂͒̋̍͌̇̉͆̓̓̍̋ͅn̵̛͚͎͉̱̩̬̭̞͚͉̿͊̅̓͆̃̐́̋͋̕̕'̵͖̤͖͙̀̌͗̅͝t̶͍͖̜͊ď̵̤͙̹̣̭̖̖̻̆̈́̈́̀͆͒̚͘͝e̷̢̡̬̺̙̊s̸̘̠̻̪̍̃̾̏̑̌͗̍̎ȩ̸̹͉̲̃͑̔r̷͖͖̙̼͉̤̣͑̽́̃͒͗͆̕v̵̭̰͓̲̼͙͈̋̍e̸̖̹̬̝̤̲̥̖͈̫̒̅́̅̆̂̾̄͊͊̕͘ͅa̷̡͔̱͓̼͆́͋n̷̙̯͈̪̫̰̜̠̲̪̎̆̃͒͜͜͝ý̶̢̥̌͌̊̌̋̀̈́͆̀̚͜͝ṱ̷̹͋̾̀͂͐̄̽̀͊͌́͠h̷͙̩̲͇̠̙̿̀̽̏̋̌͝ȋ̵̥͚̥͇̭͉̘̼̰͚͈͉͓̾n̸̨̫̼̲͍̪̹̬̲̼̼̓̉̐̀͐̔̑̑̓̚ģ̴̢͖̹̯̙͍̗͓̣̿̏̊̏̉͐̏̎͜͜-̴̨̺̤͓̫̖͍̞͉̙͍͎̮͒̀ ̸̧̢̦̗͇̯̤͇̔́̂̌  
 
it takes you a moment, a brief moment of staring  
at the yawning abyss, to be reclaimed, to be pulled,  
to be reminded.. that the words of this little lamb,  
with no limb to stand, with only their words at their disposal.  
 
to walk away, you can, you will. but it will always leave  
you wondering in the crawling dark, what was truly your  
crime other than opening the eyes of those the little lamb  
thought complacent, to whom they refused to relinquish.  
 
it was your voice that set them free.