mhall46184@aol.com
A Venus Flytrap Justifies its Diet of Flesh
I mean, like, veg, you couldn’t expect me to eat
A fellow vegetable, a kindred soul
One in spirit with me, with woody cells
Made in the image of the Great Carrot
The animals don’t feel pain like we do
They have no sense of being, they have no soul
And humans need to be farm-raised in pens
And really, veg, they’re happier that way
I’m studied in all such matters agrarian
And, yum! I love me a tasty vegetarian!
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