The Factory Animals

• Poppy Davis, Grade 8
• Poetry
• 2018

Their blood drips down and stains their maws
Hung upside-down by metal claws
Land never to run ‘neath their paws
The Factory Animals
Born to die, grown to eat
A mass of skin and bones and meat
Your future meal, your future treat
The Factory Animals
Their lives a gruesome fascination
Fattened up for first world nations
Used to test new look sensations
The Factory Animals
Why is this? And what comes of it?
Humanity rots for financial profit
Their suff’ring and pain - we seem to love it!
The Factory Animals.