Thanksgiving from a Turkey’s PoV

The air is alive with fear and sorrow.

As leaves fall to the ground, turkeys are killed.

I probably won‘t last until tomorrow;

I’ll be dead, and with stuffing I’ll be filled.

Turkeys everywhere cower in terror,

As humans run around with their big guns.

They come running out from their distant lairs;

They come to slaughter our daughters and sons.

Fear is in control of us as fall comes;

We scamper for our lives as the leaves fall.

As the death count reaches its highest sums,

Turkeys collapse where they once stood tall.

I have to think as I cower and hide,

Thanksgiving doesn’t look fun from this side.