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The Stockyard: A Living Death

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There was no emotion in their

white
pin-dot eyes
These young orphan calves,
They were just sacks of M E A T.
A living death for the unbecoming.
The complex universe
Was too busy to notice T H E M,
Simple Creatures, not bothering anyone.
I begged and said,
“Care about T H E M,”
“Please just care about T H E M.”
The kid inside eluded me;
I could feel my fury.
The crowd stood blankly

looking.
Having no idea what was happening,
I stood bravely thinking.
They would N E V E R understand,
Brainwashed by the silver surface and life’s deceptive shine.
They were fine and they were being treated fine.
Lies.
Brought up to die young,
Only to measure up to life’s worth by the pound.





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