Pig, who am I? This is an answer I wish I didn’t have to answer without a drop or two of tears. I, like any other creation of God, matter.
Though, animal I maybe, even you think I am the closest genè to humans. You domesticate me and call me babe, yet my freedom is still bound within your stys.
You reep me of all I have. You take my young and fatten them for your butchers. I can take that as my fate,
but did you have to make it their doom too?
Your mornings are auspicated with pork, your lunches with my ribs. Do not get me talking about the insulin! My insulin saves many of you who suffer from sugar habits- yours and your forefathers! What am I, a doctor?
On the other hand, I don’t blame you entirely because even my own seem to have been eluded of my worth.Who could sire 16 little ones from a single pregnancy and live a sane existence!
Ever seen them suckle off my very own breasts?
PIG, pain in gear.I think that is what my existence is. A day to day toment.