Hollow Hegemony
1st Poem from NaPoWrMo that I added a few more lines to and some clarification since I wasn't satisfied with the first draft.
The Humans have fled their natural birthright. Acres of farmland that would elongate by at least one light-year into a hegemonic parody of a superpower for hollow suits from the perspective of pigs, if only the four-legged animals knew what that would entail. A planetary atmospheric shell without an earth as its yolk. Breath without a balloon to snapshot its shape—imprisonment that looks like purpose. A heart pumping blood through a body for a soul that has long departed. The treacherous black— shrewd, scheming, and pot-bellied to the barn floor in plots mirroring life before the revolt— would die with ruby stained hooves before they so much as look at a book. An empty purpose budded into stilted resentment blossomed into pure-intentions wilted by the unyielding winter of power thirst that's impossible to satisfy, let alone quench, once corruption discovers its stomach —a famished black hole.
No light beyond the ending line - a fitting line to the whole poem.
Some animals are more equal than others, but it turns out all animals are the same.