My first experience with a Concentrated Animal Feeding Operation.

A densely packed forest.

The bark is fur, the roots, hooves.

The foliage a four stomached mass of flesh.

No room to grow between the trees. 

No way to feel the open breeze. 

Inside a barn, it's eat, survive. 

Anguish is something I don't want to imbibe.

This poem is about: 
Our world


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