I'm Not Food
By Sky Raven
An Animal Rights Poem from All-Creatures.org

 

I'm Not Food
By Sky Raven

They called my mother, ďPork Chop,Ē to them Iím the next slice of meat. I donít really see how, just like them I breathe and eat. I even have to sleep, even though Iím scared to. They beat me every day, to get me out my cage. Youíd be scared too, and if not then youíd engage. Thatís called self-defense mode, but see me, Iím just a slave. I smelled my mother on his breath, just the other day. In his body she decays, hastening his grave. Thatís my only payback; I guess thatís natureís way. I guess karma is like a dog that has a mean bite. Maybe thatís why Iím here, for something in my last life. I wouldnít wish this on the worst, a mean deadly curse. They want my flesh and blood, and itís not enough to quench their thirst, so for me every day, is filled with pain. On his pant legs are bloodstains, theyíre heavy on my brain and the fear of is it my turn, am I the next one to be slain, because I am not food. You are violent.

But they only want for my legs and breasts. So theyíre quick to chop me up as they maim my chest. My family is name-less, they name the fearful after me. I guess that makes sense, itís
only pain and fear I see. Iím only bred to feed their greed, so they snatch up my seeds, before they have a chance to breathe; and even if they decide to let the babies survive, they chop off their beaks to preserve the meat inside. Thatís like chopping off your nose to spite your face, cuz they donít even have love for their own, the human race, so my fate is sealed. From the field to the meal, I donít know how living feels. I know these lesions get deep and every day I bleed. I know if I had a chance, Iíd leave this coop and freed. I know, a stretched imagination, freakiní hard to believe. A visionary sees things most arenít ready to receive, but anything conceived and believed can be achieved, because I am not food! You are violent.

My breasts are always full and my nipples are sore, and when I finally empty them out I always fill up with more. My calves are all gone so I donít know why, but I keep making milk and when I stop I die. How long my baby survives, depends on their gender. They starve the bulls for their milk, they like it real tender. The cows get treated like me, clearly not great. They use us for our milk, our skins, our beef, our steak. Even bullshit is a commodity. Iím not life Iím property. I survive unremarkably, as food, what a fallacy. Animal meat is unhealthy to the humans who consume it, who are dying from diseases wondering why they go through it. For the profits of the farmers, and pharmaceutical beasts, whose profits are more important than the lives now deceased. Whether animal or human, we all strive to survive. When we respect each otherís lives thatís when this family will thrive, because I am not food. You are violent.


About Sky Raven The Vegan Poet
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