I write down my thoughts just as they occur,
And now it's about the clothes that are fur.
Creatures are butchered just for their coat,
So uncaring people can wear them and gloat.

Death round their shoulders, they don't really care.
They have to be seen, so the fur they will wear.
Some of the people, they don't understand.
The death that they wear, is from their own hand.

Coats of this kind, and I'm not mistaken.
An animals life has to be taken.
With blood on their hands, just for a fashion.
To kill for a coat. Where's the compassion?

Does their conscience ever stir?
When they wear their nice new fur.
Slaughter for fashion. Will God forgive?
With their beautiful coats, he meant them to live.

Killings go on, always repeated.
Thanks to people who are conceited.
Did it feel pain on it's last breath?
So they could wear, the coat of death.

Creature in cages, just so they breed.
making a coat, it's pelts that they need.
To live like this they have no zest.
It's cruelty at it's very best.

Take the fur and feel the pelt.
Did they think how the creature felt?
In a small cage and very forlorn.
So all vain people they can adorn.

My poems aren't written of love and devotion.
Most contain cruel, sadistic emotion.
For innocent creatures, their beautiful fur.
This type of killing we have to deter.

Upon this rhyme, if one is willing,
To try and stop this type of killing.
Then I'll fight for ever more.
To save the wild life I adore.

©BezMac