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Mr. Zebra, do you enjoy standing there, enclosed?
Flashing lights turning your eyes into solemn mirrors
There is always a hunter close by and you try to ignore it
But you can’t ignore the hunter because he has you trapped.
Mr. Zebra, do you enjoy being part of the show?
Every time you move a mocking laugh hitting your ears
Your legs ache to run,
But there are fences surrounding you, getting smaller each day like a boa constrictor.
Mr. Zebra, do you have a home? Or do you have a prison?
You know there were others because their hoof prints are outlined in suffering
There is a way out of everything,
But you can’t escape the hunter and he wants you to suffer.
Mr. Zebra, do you see the sun? Or just a ripple in the sky?
You see everything as it is
Tufts of gray stalks, water lacking any shade of blue
You see the hunters,
But only behind the glass lenses that flash and attack your soul.
Mr. Zebra, do you know you are just a piece of art that can be tossed away?
Once your beauty drains away you will go with the others, far, far away
And another painting will be put on your old hook for the hunters to enjoy,
But there will always be a hunter who can recognize your face, Mr. Zebra.