Hoo went the blind owl.
Snore went the slumbering gazelle.
Grr went the toothless bear.
And me? I chopped wood. Tree after tree until my hands bled and then shed me.
And me? I dug a canyon. Shovel after shovel until my arms detached and departed me.
And me? I planted seeds. Mile after mile until my spine snapped and the ground took me.
It was good to put in an honest day’s work because the zoo will extract the life out of you. Ask the owl, the cheetah, and the bear. They’ll tell you the truth eventually if pressed, but you will be unnerved by what you hear. Hint. Captivity is not all it's cracked up to be.
Someday, be it apathy or distraction, the zookeeper will forget to place that heavy padlock on the front gate, and the faintest breeze will push the steel-reinforced door open. That same breeze has been waiting for this exact moment its entire existence. And the breeze, being what the breeze is, will whisper into waiting, ancient ears and never look back.
And the lions, the hyenas, and the wolves will come because that is what the lions, the hyenas, and the wolves do.
You can bet your life on it.