The Killing Floor

The Killing FloorFrom my mother I was torn away, in this I never had any say.The morality of my captors had clearly long gone astray.On the kill floor I saw a view so grim, a view so sad, how dearly I missed my mom and dad. Raised with thousands of my kind, all of them completely blind.Here I lay Diseased and dying, the advertisements are all lying.They claim this torment to be humane, but this assertion is insane.My life is pure torment, and for my pain they do not lament, I have no wish to be spent.To them I am just a product in a process that is so corrupt, one that thrives on misconduct. They do not see me for what I am, only bacon, pork and ham.I panic, scream and cry knowing I am doomed to die.Oh how I try and wry, but they force me to comply. They have to meet their supply, but let me ask you, why?Scattered all around me lie the corpses of my brethren, who all gave in to infection.I can carry on no longer, no hope left to conjureI yearn for open space, somewhere I can play and chaseBut instead all I see are walls all around me. I want so desperately to be free, instead my death’s a guarantee.I close my eyes one last time, soon to fall victim to a crimeThis life is so unfair, one that is beyond repair.I breathe one final breath of air and say one final pointless prayer. End this madness, I implore. The gore should shake you to your core. Here I am on death's door, lying on the killing floor.

This poem is about: 
Our world

Comments

Need to talk?

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741