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.