Unwillingly, I wake up to a sound,
attached to a pound,
urging me to silently drown,
vigorously tripping around,
duties call, to begin the mound.
Agitated skin, uniform miserably stained
Grease pockets burst, reminds me of the pain,
I hesitantly wear for such little gain.
Clings on my back leaving slimy grease tracks
No wonder there's countless heart attacks,
Simply, sizzling sensation of cardiac arrest
to fulfill the desire of a cheap chicken breast.
Arrive to work can already feel the torque
Handling paunchy poisoned praised pork
that potentially lurks to fill a fork.
Swimming in mountains of grease,
Think about the millions of geese
No, I have to pay my lease
These animals don't deserve the price of peace.
How many slaughtered for a slab of meat?
Rotting under the heat or below my feet,
Feeding this to babies is just a cheat
Tuck it under a lipids plump sheet.
It's dead, no harm, no tweet tweet,
End up in an explosive bathroom retreat.
Shift finished, desperately scurry home
Soap, shampoo, shower dome
Remorse, rebellion, ruminate
I know I am not alone, you helped create.
The fuzzy, feathered, fleshes fate
No human should have to degenerate.
But, honestly in this devious rate
We need to change the way we operate.
By: Dorrell Webster
If another title is needed name it: The Calibrations of Slaughter