We see you, sowing fear as if it were as easy as breathing. You tell us that this is for the best, hoping that we all become sheep and follow you blindly. You have forgotten one minor detail, in every group of snow white sheep, there is a black sheep. That black sheep will go against everything you preach, slowly dyeing the snow white wool of your followers to a shimmering silver. This is the power bestowed upon the black sheep, this is our mission.
Your anger flares, and while the white sheep crowd around you, polishing your crown, the black and silver sheep plot. We have no interest in conforming, we see your wrong. While the white remain silent, our bleats ring out as you speak. The only way to silence us is to sew shut the mouths that have the power to bring you down. We will not be silenced, despite the burn of your needles. You sheer my wool, leaving me silenced and exposed. You use me as a lesson before casting me away.
I watch as so many of my fellow rebels lose their shimmering silver glow, and once again I am alone. I flee in the night, faint bleat meeting the silencing powers of your thread. Fear will not consume me, despite what you fill the others with. You can turn me against my family, but I will remain fearless.
I am met with fellow black sheep, and they cut the thread that you carelessly sewed. My voice rings out once more, joined by other unwavering bleats from strong black sheep like myself. We are coming for you, so you better prepare. You will reap what you have sown.