By Bernie Jones
Animal Rights Poetry
Moo-ving people toward compassionate living
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By Bernie Jones email@example.com
I have no control over anything about my life
I am used, abused;
my life is worthless.
When I am spent, I will be killed.
When I no longer earn the right to this tiny little space I am 'living' in...
I will be disposed of in a painful and despicable manner.
Few will ever know or care that I ever existed,
though I exist for them.
Most people will never WANT to know about me.
My life and death will be hidden from their eyes,
so long as the people who DO know, keep quiet.
Those people who will never 'choose' to know
are the very people who create the need for my feeble existence....
and my inevitable slaughter.
I will never thank them for my life...
only for my death.
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