Dashing, running, hopping and flipping,
Into the walls, bars, boxes, and bowls.
Heart beating, pounding, racing, trapped.
There is no where to dig, no where to climb.
I am a weak and feeble creature,
Bred to your consumption of entertainment.
I will continue to beg, for I have no pride.
I do not know my name, a thing surreal,
But the step of your foot is a name enough.
Freedom! Let me feel the length of my legs.
I am choked where there is not land.
The bars become a desperate chew,
And the clatter you hear is my mute cry.