The Veal Calf
Here I am in this small wooden box, Bound up with chains and locks. What is my fate from here? I hope I don't die. Stuck here through the wind and cold, Hearing the others, will they too be sold? Wishing, hoping, praying, I hope I don't die. I was taken from my mother, too. She had warm milk, a soothing moo. I wonder if she knows I'm here, I hope I don't die. Sometimes the others are taken away. "They're goin' to heaven," some elders say, Is heaven good? Does it have freedom? I hope I don't die. But, for now, I'm here in this box. Bound up in chains and locks, Wishing, hoping, praying, I hope I don't die.
Courtney Ketzler
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Copyright © 1998 by Courtney Ketzler. All Rights Reserved
May be used in unchanged form by avowed Animal Rightists if accompanied by this copyright message.
May be used in unchanged form by avowed Animal Rightists if accompanied by this copyright message.