The life of food

Today I thought I'd share a poem I wrote recently.

----

The choking dust never settled
because the crowded masses never ceased
their efforts to find some room to breathe
in the soaring heat that stifled,
the closeness that suffocated,
the relief that never came.

It had always been this way,
as far as anyone knew,
until they dropped in their place
and lay there in death as they had
once stood in life,
and eventually were taken away.

Searing pain,
the loss of feeling,
and life of tasteless misery to follow,
was their welcome to this world,
for those 'lucky' few permitted
to live beyond their birth.

Old age was unknown in
this brief and hectic life,
where weeks became a lifetime
and a lifetime was all you had,
memories of youth the apex
of short lives unfulfilled.

The claustrophobic heat continued
to sap and drain their strength,
spent in the daily struggle
to reach the scant relief
of water insufficient
and food baked in bodily waste.

At least it was not in vain
this suffering of endless generations,
as their youthful corpses garnish nightly
the dinner plates of their masters,
a glass of white to wash it down
with compliments to the chef.

----

That's merely a brief glimpse into the life of the chickens that wind up on your dinner plate (if you eat chicken), and at places like KFC and Red Rooster et al. Is the brief enjoyment of a food we don't even need really worth forcing innocent creatures to endure such abuse from the moment of birth until their painful and messy death?