The Ritual

My stomach churns for the sacrifice.
It lay before me,
Destined for consumption.
What is there,
More fulfilling than this?
It may exist, but I haven't learned of it yet.

My organs cry: 
"It is trivial,
The decision trivial.
Probably makes for more harm than good.
And I mean,
What difference would it make
Should I choose to partake?
The deed is done. 
What could my decision here and now change?
Probably next to nothing if I must admit."

I snap into reality once more.
How an unwilling victim has no say
In their destiny.
How could the act be rationalized 
If anything other than what was created for sacrifice 
Took its place?
How ridiculous of me to rationalize
As a Christian would.
Or a slaver.
A necessary evil now, is an uprising tomorrow.
What an easy change for my neighbor and I.
What a difference made,
If only for ourselves.

Yet...I go through with the ritual, 

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