The camera is on her
She lies in her own filth, half concealed by straw
Only known life for a few short months
Too weak to stand.
Shallow breaths.
Snuffled by her scrawny brothers and sisters
Her right eye, rotting away
Oozing pus
Flies landing on it
Feeding off it
Does pain ever get so bad it can no longer be felt?
I hope so, for her sake.
I hope she gives up soon
But the next night, she still breathes,
Though shallow
She clings to her life.
Her hip bones poke out as if to split the skin
Her weeping eye, no longer seeing
Oozing pus
Flies landing on it
Feeding off it
I beg her to give up soon
If she lives, what awaits her?
Worse than this.
The next night, the cameras return
She is dead.
Such is the life and death of a young pig
On a factory farm
She couldn’t even survive long enough
To make bacon