Farmers are vile creatures
Piglets you see
Are voiceless
Or so it’s thought
Dramatically
Inarticulation
Aphonic sound
A muttering stutter
As their head hits the ground
Babies so happy to be born at all
Sadly vapidity
Convinces the men
These runts have no future
Possible when
Anyone sees them
Their future to be
Smashed head down on the ground
With intensity