There was a flock of sheep. Most of them enjoyed life but not all of them were happy.
There was a black sheep. All the other sheep made fun of him because he was different.
An ugly sheep was fed up of being told by the other sheep that he was useless and good for nothing.
A sheep who’d spent most of his life in a pen struggled to fit in with the others. None of them trusted him and wouldn’t let him play with them.
A sheep who had been wounded couldn’t keep up with the other sheep and was always being left behind.
One of the sheep liked to travel from place to place. The other sheep thought he was mad and turned their backs on him whenever he turned up.
The shepherd didn’t give a monkeys about the sad sheep and the rejected sheep; he only cared about the size of his flock.
But one day another shepherd appeared and he knew the black sheep, the ugly sheep, the one who couldn’t fit in, the one who’d been hurt and the one who was only there sometimes and he called them by name.
And they left the flock and followed him to a place where the ground was level and all sheep were accepted.
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