Little Lives
I often wonder why
I am not
What I eat.
Because I think of all the chickens
In farmhouses underground.
They never see the sunlight
They never see themselves.
And I wonder
If they know
What they are.
Do they know that they are chickens?
Feathered, flightless birds.
Do they know how blue the sky is?
Beaming down on an unjust earth.
And I wonder
What they do think
They are.
Just little lives,
In the darkness
Walking only a few steps before collapse
'Cause the hormones tell their bodies to grow too fast.
And I wonder
Who submits to ending
Such poor little lives.
The bodies that kick them in the darkness
Because they are no better treated than the meat
And the people in suits away from the blood
And the people up high enjoying the sun.
I just wonder
Why I cry
For these birds.
Do they know that they are chickens?
How could they even know there's light?
Do the trucks that rumble overhead
Bring fear to little minds?
I wonder
If they realize
Their lives are only food.
Do they wonder why their skin splits,
So heavy on little legs?
Do they wonder if it's the food they eat?
But it's all they know they have.
And I wonder
If anyone else
Would like to know.
Would they like to know their chicken patty
Was made of those little lives?
Would they like to know their chicken nuggets
Never saw the light?
I often wonder
What it would be like
If we were what we ate.
Do they even know they're human?
The way they favor the quick and cheap.
Do they really ever see the sky?
The way they torture those little lives.
And I wonder
If they'd like
To know the pain.
What if they were fed hormones and corn
Until they couldn't walk far before collapse?
What if they spent their lives in darkness?
Bred to be nothing but tender and fat.
And I wonder
How they live
Knowing what they are.
They think they are superior
With thoughts, feelings, brains.
But how superior are you?
Just look at your hands, and think.
Just wonder
What your
Purpose is.
Nothing but a number
In an overpopulated world.
Filling bastards' pockets
For their bloodless, heartless work.
And I wonder
Why you aren't
What you eat.
Because surely if there was a god,
Justice would be his call.
Either justice doesn't exist,
Or karma's got it all wrong.
And I wonder
Why they don't
Hate themselves.
Taking little lives
That set the balance
That have no fault or crime
To fuel a hateful, wasteful, absolutely worthless life.
And I still wonder
Why everyone is not
What they eat.
And I know of the chickens
Deprived of their light.
They don't know what they are,
Just dark little lives.
--
I am not
What I eat.
Because I think of all the chickens
In farmhouses underground.
They never see the sunlight
They never see themselves.
And I wonder
If they know
What they are.
Do they know that they are chickens?
Feathered, flightless birds.
Do they know how blue the sky is?
Beaming down on an unjust earth.
And I wonder
What they do think
They are.
Just little lives,
In the darkness
Walking only a few steps before collapse
'Cause the hormones tell their bodies to grow too fast.
And I wonder
Who submits to ending
Such poor little lives.
The bodies that kick them in the darkness
Because they are no better treated than the meat
And the people in suits away from the blood
And the people up high enjoying the sun.
I just wonder
Why I cry
For these birds.
Do they know that they are chickens?
How could they even know there's light?
Do the trucks that rumble overhead
Bring fear to little minds?
I wonder
If they realize
Their lives are only food.
Do they wonder why their skin splits,
So heavy on little legs?
Do they wonder if it's the food they eat?
But it's all they know they have.
And I wonder
If anyone else
Would like to know.
Would they like to know their chicken patty
Was made of those little lives?
Would they like to know their chicken nuggets
Never saw the light?
I often wonder
What it would be like
If we were what we ate.
Do they even know they're human?
The way they favor the quick and cheap.
Do they really ever see the sky?
The way they torture those little lives.
And I wonder
If they'd like
To know the pain.
What if they were fed hormones and corn
Until they couldn't walk far before collapse?
What if they spent their lives in darkness?
Bred to be nothing but tender and fat.
And I wonder
How they live
Knowing what they are.
They think they are superior
With thoughts, feelings, brains.
But how superior are you?
Just look at your hands, and think.
Just wonder
What your
Purpose is.
Nothing but a number
In an overpopulated world.
Filling bastards' pockets
For their bloodless, heartless work.
And I wonder
Why you aren't
What you eat.
Because surely if there was a god,
Justice would be his call.
Either justice doesn't exist,
Or karma's got it all wrong.
And I wonder
Why they don't
Hate themselves.
Taking little lives
That set the balance
That have no fault or crime
To fuel a hateful, wasteful, absolutely worthless life.
And I still wonder
Why everyone is not
What they eat.
And I know of the chickens
Deprived of their light.
They don't know what they are,
Just dark little lives.
--