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Animal Pain


I’m lying on the ground,
With a bullet in my side.
I can smell my blood, my lifeblood,
Flowing from my wound.
Hunted for my fur, murdered for your money.
The poachers have caught me at last. I’ve watched them murder my friends, my family.
Feeling the grief too many times.
But now the only thought I have,
Is with pain, because,
In my next life, I might be the murderer,
Holding the gun, hunting the innocent,
With no shame, no thought for their life,
Only money on my small twisted mind.

I’m lying in a cage,
Cooped up, unable to breathe.
Except for the smoke of cigarettes,
That flow from the small black tube,
That pokes through the bars of this claustrophobic cage.
I splutter and choke on this murderous smoke,
Like many before me.
They died.
As my life dwindles, I think with pain,
In my next life, I might be the murderer, Cramming animals into tiny cages, forcing them to die.
Forcing them to inhale smoke filled air,
Rubbing their skins with substances that cause them to blister and burn.
Gradually stealing their life from them,
Only money on my small twisted mind.
I might be... might be...?