A slaughterhouse worker tells us how it is

The fact we seem unsure
And perhaps never see
That cows being killed
Hate the thought and they be
Torn from this fabric of life as we know
Brutally slaughtered with little to show
200 an hour cut down in their prime
These souls are mothers are females each time
Death closes in they erupt with such fear
Knowing we help them to get out of here
Throats slashed and blooded
Their agony lasts
Tears fall like rain the emotional blasts
Sunk on their knees crying aloud
A slaughterhouse operative describes the crowd