Abbatoir Poem by Zach Romanov

Abbatoir, a worse place I never seen
Abbatoir, where the strong come to die
Abbatoir, where the rich profit over blood while they slowly sip their amber fluid
Abbatoir, where man nourishes himself
Abbatoir, where my food comes from
Abbatoir, why do you continue your treacherous ways?
Abbatoir, why can't I see your destructive power?
Abbatoir, how can I accept you?
Agro, that is what I am when I think of you and your deadly destruction, Abbatoir