they fatten the lamb not out of love but out of expectation and the lamb eats because that is what she was born knowing how to do because the hunger is in her blood like a roadmap to slaughter like prophecy like fate curling its fingers around her neck soft as silk and twice as deadly.
she does not scream because her mouth is full and she has always been told that full things are happy things are lucky things are chosen.
i think about her when i eat breakfast.
i think about her when i see my thighs in the mirror and wonder how many pounds away i am from being loved like something edible.
i think about her when i smile wide and white and someone tells me i look healthy like it’s a compliment like it’s a eulogy.
the cows are killed fat the girls are killed quiet what is the difference anymore
the pigs are bred wide-eyed and pink and trembling and the knives kiss them with purpose
and i lie down at night and dream about knives with names and hands with halos and a god that looks like a man in a white coat saying good girl good girl good girl
they made us this way
docile
plump
terrified of starving more than we are of dying
tell me—
what instinct do you evolve when the only thing you’ve ever been taught is compliance
what does rebellion look like when your bloodline has been signed over to a factory
what does freedom mean when your body is not your own but a harvest
the lamb eats
the lamb trusts
the lamb waits
and somewhere in the dirt beneath her feet is the soft heartbeat of every girl who grew up learning how to be consumed beautifully
and still smiled for the camera
and still said thank you when the hunger came with flowers
and still stayed
like there’s something brave in surviving a system built to gut you
like there’s something divine in the way we keep walking toward the blade with our hands outstretched and our mouths still chewing
god
don’t you see
we were never livestock
we were just taught to be.
between the rotting walls 
Leave a comment