Standing in the dirt
Standing in a paddock
Eating fertiliser
Filled with antibiotics
This will be the end of me!
A chicken once said to me
Now he's dead
It's all a science
Growers on a mission
Using needles and averages
To grow the biggest chicken
But how much chicken is in em?
Our food is on the line
Production to the end of time
Feeding our addiction
Prep our food without a kitchen
Healthy eating has become a fad
To feel good and tone our flab
Veggies are priced for kings
So now we shop for other things
Burgers made from from bleeding mothers
Barbecues from their bloody brothers
Shiny shoes made of leather
On business, cows, working together
Meat cut from the bone
In packages it sits alone
We don't think about the start
We just eat and pull apart
Flesh and skin and bits of blood
Ripping apart we chew our cud
Happy times with our dinner plate
And then we draw the line and shut the gate
YOU ARE READING
This Will Be the End of Me!
PoetrySome thoughts on the ways we view animals as products, often with little regard to where they came from or who they are.
