Misery

When I was born, as I open my eyes, for what I saw was the last time my mother's face.

And as for her milk I was given nothing but only a taste.

Alone I grew knowing nothing but confined walls and brief moments of my handlers cold Grace.

At night I cried because I did not know what I was supposed to be.

Who was my mother? Who was my father? And why were they taken away from me?

And then the sickness that came from every time I eat.

Making my body feel nothing but weak.

 It put a toll on my body and spirit.

The only word I could find to describe my life, for this little cow, was plain Misery.