Caged in a box with other chickens
I gasp for some breath to inhale,
My wings yearn for space to flap
But discomfort is better than death.
When the butcher opens the cage
I shudder with fear of impending death
I am desperate for a corner to hide
Where I can dodge his advancing hands.
I watch chickens chopped into pieces
And hope, no more customer will come
But how long? Maybe, one more night,
Come tomorrow and the butcher will find me
I know, what I fear is inevitable.