It's Torture to be Tasty

Tiny little newborn eyes still blue from birthing
      you will be  paralyzed by fear and darkness and isolation
you will go blind
you body will wither
you  will never walk or be able to raise your head
That makes your meat white...

And Tasty

You will be manufactured into the world
defecated into a small trough.

You will never see your mother
know your mother, or smell your  mother

You will never know that  a mother can feed you.

You are just a baby calf an infant a wee one.

You mother.

 She has been trough this many times before.

Her uterus no knows other state
 only  pregnant
Every year 15 years

She is dairy cow
only for milk

  

her tiny babies dropped in many troughs
her  spirit and mind are broke

she will not miss you.

You are an infant little one a Tiny baby with fuzzy hair.

you will be dropped covered  placenta,

your umbilical chord tied to a screaming cow

Bleating for your mother
upside down in filth

  You only existed while in her womb.     
a womb that has been ripped apart from trauma until
used she will go to slaughter

The farmer will get his money's worth.

With your first breath you exist no more.

 Because you are male you can't be dairy, you can't be milked
and you will be buried alive in a pit of despair.

In darkness.
 In plastic huts.
As far as the eye can see.
Millions, billions.
Acres and miles

 Sun.
Baked.
Little baby living in a sauna

You will be  made mad from isolation
blind from darkness.
This we know,
                           "The effects of 6 months of total isolation were so deestating and debilitating that we had assumed initially that twelve monte of isolation would not procuduce and additional decrement.
This assumption proved to be false twelve months of isolating obliterated the animal's psyche". (Harlow)

You will know panic and desperation
and your cripped tiny legs will never know to walk.
You muscles will never grow.
You will not know stand

You are just a baby a tiny infant little one.

Your eyes just open an hour ago
They are still blue

You will be thrown into a pit of despair
a garbage baby
and will be driven mad by isolation, darkness and pain,

You will need him to eat
 and a feeding tube will be  shoved down your throat

This is because Tiny infants isolated like you will often stop eating.
And you would become a loss for the factory farm

You will be left to age like a fine wine in a little plastic hut miles of your brethren you shall suffer

You are just a  newborn, an infant.
a Wee one with fizzy hair

they will call you Baby bobe

Your to be fed in intervals so violently that the force of the food will jolt your tiny stomach,
You will wake and your headwill bob up and down every four hours 24 hours a day
Up and Down
Up and Down
Up and Dow
for at least a year.
Your psyche will be obliterated 

Hundreds and thousand and millions of you in your huts bobbing up and down in concert ever four hours.

You will not know sleep only exhaustion but your mind will be kind it will descend into madness and protect you from the terrors

But you are just a tiny one an infant
a  baby

When the violent pumping stops when  your  stomach almost bursts you will he shit on yourself uncontrollably.
You will feel ashamed

The water will fall from the ceiling to clean you.
Soon you will not understand cleanliness from filth.
It will not matter for you.

You are just a baby.

Between feedings you lay on the floor in the darkness. Your neck
You will never lift your head

You will not  know life without cry, without pain without sadness

You are a newborn  tiny infant

You will age alive in your little plastic hut of tortures
Heaving in silence for you mother until your stomac cramps the feeing interfering with your cries
abd you can cry no more
How many days?
How many hours?
How many monthes
with the chorus of thousands of silence heaves are silenced
in the living groves of hell that surrounds you
We do not know there is no one around to hear you.

 You will never know one like you.

You are a little one
A sweet one

And when that door opens and you nostrils fill with fresh air for the first time in you life
you lift your bind eyes to the sky.

You will know life but death will come swift.
"Hear his heart kill him quickly" the angels sin.

You will be called Veal.
And you will be slaughtered

You will be  cut you up in little medallions
dip in egg

then breadcrumb and fried in olive oil.

We we call you Veal little one.
Born of  flesh born of pain and torture.

But  You are just a little one a baby an infant.

We will order you with fettuccine Alfredo as a side.
We will ingest the flesh,
ripe with toxins from the trauma

Stomach acids will break you down and
I will deficate you,
 just as your mother did

and flush you away

Tiny little newborn

Sweet infant 

With eyes still blue from biry

Now you are Milk fed Veal

You are Gods creature but you are mans shame.