Looking in the eyes of those who are about to die, I cry. In every inch of my body I feel the(ir) horror. If only I was able to feel rage, this madness could end. However, shame and guilt were imposed upon me. So, instead of rage, I cry for those who are facing the end. Their cruel death is at the hands of those who forced them into this world. I cry softly. That’s all I am able to do.


I don’t remember being born. My body does. I live my living death ever since. Every day I die at the hands of human insanity. Since, like my dying friends I came into this world not for being (me). Like them, me too, I serve a purpose. I am. Only to the benefit and use of those who brought me into this world. Like my animal friends I am a product of their making. We are a means to their end. I cry softly. That’s all that I was ever able to.


I was deprived of my primal scream. I am a freezing body without a skin. All that remains is the burning pain within. I could not save myself. That’s bad enough. But the real horror lives inside: I could not save any of my animal friends. I still can’t.



All over the world, children are hurting. Over and over again. Until they don’t. Collective human insanity leaves child cruelty unpunished. The same insanity makes it impossible to see carnism for what it is: inflicted upon the largest number of victims and yet the most widely adopted genocide crime in history.

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