Piglets how they suffer. Its an angry poet today

Here it is
In black and white
Surgeries of sin
Held upside down
A dirty scalpel
And A babies fragile skin
Sliced its bollocks and them tore out
You can see it here
You can hear the squealing
As the small brown balls appear

No painkillers no stitches
No antiseptic no
No love no care no thought
To share
Just chucked on the floor
They show
Their little bottoms
Bleeding and off they waddle, they
Are piglets for the pork trade
And for you some day

And did you notice the same scalpel
Cross infection yea
No one cares a monkeys
Of course they are aware
But that would mean less profit
And they’d need a prophet here
Thats the fate of animals
And isn’t very clear

Some go onto suffer
They fester and they die
Or they are smashed into the concrete
Head down and they die
Kicking like a dancer
Until their energy
Is totally exhausted
Then in The bin they be

Creation is the miracle
But its wasted everyday
So man can make his profit
And advertise and say
How sweet the meat of human kindness
Is but reality
Shows those who eat pork
Really are totally guilty

Of evil yes personified
Of ignorance and pain
These babies suffer how they suffer
Over and over again
And then we bloody slaughter them
Cut their throats and let
Them bleed out in the abattoir
And that yes thats our debt

We walk about imagining how lovely we all are
And then out of the blue comes cancer
Why us we are a star
No you bloody are not my friend
For unbeknown to you
The meat you eat is slaughtered
In agony all through

So put your thinking cap on
Do some of the stuff
Protect these little animals they have had
Enough
Torture it is torture
So the corporate world can make
More and much more profit
And so you can eat the cake

Pp