Behind thick doors
Windowless walls
Dangling bodies bleed.
Despite desperate cries
Frantic fights
Eyes that beg and plead.
Each precious neck
Mutilated
Parting heart from head.
Each sweet brown face
Swiftly stained
A sticky, sickly red.
Life slowly seeps
From each guiltless soul
And falls at the killer’s feet.
The butchers continue
On still-conscious minds
Turning muscle into “meat.”
Severed vocal chords
Are unsuccessful
Translating pain to sound.
So silently
They suffer
As limbs drop to the ground.
As they hang dying
Piece by piece
This could be called “alarming.”
Instead this vile hell on earth
Is simply
“Modern farming.”
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