Something lighthearted for a change 🙂

Hidden gold in an orb of white,
Given time should bring forth life,
Still we eat them as if by right,
Putting unborn babies under knife.

Scrambled, poached, boiled or fried,
Is the fate of the mother's fruit.
She cannot run, nor does she hide,
To deprive the murderers of their loot.

Much care is taken in their laying,
Nurtured from the very start,
what can be done to stop the slaying,
and deny those without a heart?

And so I shout, with fervent passion,
"Egg-layers of the world unite!
Take up arms in warrior fashion!
For the freedom of your eggs now fight!"


Ankh dar-Q'oia Ying, Bird's Rights Activist

Penned by my hand on the 8th of Variach, in the year 58 MA.