Feel pity for the turtle,
Born captive in a bowl.
Swimming in a circle,
A life been bought and sold.
He has his natural instincts,
Engrained in DNA.
I wonder what he thinks,
Being captive every day.
To him, it must feel wrong.
A missing link to life.
Pondering all along,
Why his surroundings don't suffice.
If released to the wild,
Survival would be scarce.
He's been captive since a child.
Born an artificial heir.
The turtle knows only this society,
It's what he's been born into.
His intuition - alive, indeed,
Tells him what turtles do.
I watch him in his tank, a curse.
How it must feel strange.
Born to fulfill a turtle's life purpose,
But forced into walls, by humans who exchange.
I feel pity for the turtle,
Then realize my foolishness.
Humans, too, know the artificial -
Yearning for natural happiness.
We build up our own glass walls,
And bear children to not see,
That there is life beyond this all,
That offers more than we think we need.
We, too, are like turtles,
Having a purpose to fulfill.
We overcome so many hurdles,
Within glass walls that ****.
