My first experience with a Concentrated Animal Feeding Operation.
A densely packed forest.
The bark is fur, the roots, hooves.
The foliage a four stomached mass of flesh.
No room to grow between the trees.
No way to feel the open breeze.
Inside a barn, it's eat, survive.
Anguish is something I don't want to imbibe.
This poem is about:
Our world