A brain can't save a powerless bird
whose name conjures food when spoken the word.
Her nature leads her to peck and take wing
But there's no room for instinct.
This life is no living.
With six in a cage, what bird needs a brain?
Inside the warehouses are endless chains
of small metal boxes with wire mesh floors.
Eroded feathers reveal scratches and sores.
No reason to cluck, no pride with no beak.
No social order, no reason to speak.
Eyes blinded by ammonia from droppings below.
One bird out of six, collapsed, must go.
Yanked from the cage and thrown to the floor.
While these birds are swept up, the factory makes more.
One particular bird on this particular day
is a snapshot you can take away,
of a bird that has been cloned and restrained
His right to life stolen for a greedy man's gain.
As you live your life, carefree,
smart creatures live as commodities.
"Not smart enough," an excuse you've learned
to slyly shroud your past concern.
Too bad that brains can't save these birds.
It seems as though they have been cursed
because there's a functioning brain in their heads
that doesn't redeem them,
but leaves them tortured instead.
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