The pawn lays down for the juicer

 The pawn mangoe side
Just waiting for the knife
The cut is an opiate
The separation of flesh a rush
a relief for the desensitized

It´s succulent juice collected
it´s blood drops, so does the care for the world

The wool gets in the way
the interconnected sheep lain down
Shaven on it´s side
Readying itself for the blade

The cliff´s edge has been well ground down
polished by the shoe of many a desperate trend clinger
 That summit sundried and dusty
Yellowy gray clouds of dust infecting the screenfed eyes
As they march or scoot toward the abyss

A cackle like a constipated assault rifle
The collective nodders lovable apathetic maniacs
Unbeknownst, to the risk of total destruction
The blinding lights of nukes may shine a little light 
on their sheepish future