It’s pleasant enough 

wandering these pathways

flanked by tall the rectangular cages, 

each protected by a steel door

with a security code.

Even pleasanter later, 

when the cages are lower

and less daunting enclosures

of decorative brick or pricey stone

surrounding quiet green spaces,

each protected by metal gates

with a security code.

Occasionally a creature emerges,

sometimes with barred teeth,

clenched fists, raised claws.

But mostly looking sad 

and out of condition.

Lost inside itself.

Poor things.

Lost souls


Mostly though, they are seen outside,

moving purposefully to a destination,

not free to wander random paths.

Or heading back to their cages,

hoping there is no diversion 

which may leave them lost.

Leave them in terror of

the unforeseen

The unforeseen


that may arise

from freedom.


to be lost.

Poor things.

Lost souls

in or out 

of their



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