Sense Sonnet - Steamer

Free the Oink Pressed

This pig slaughterhouse down the road
Made me sick each time I went by.
Brutal killing load after load
Of those poor creatures - made me cry.
So in a display of protest,
I went to that place late at night.
Against the gates, the pigs were pressed.
I was there to rescue their plight.
Breaking the locks, I opened wide
Those gates, letting the pigs go free.
Thousands of them came from inside,
Oinking and heading right at me.

No time to tell the pigs, we'd won.
All I could do was turn and run.