Fearful man slash boy in cage,
given to fits of rage when
reason can't accommodate.
Paths of logic forge a trail
leading nowhere besides the
packaged entryway of home;
washed grays of barred windowsills.
Stifled cries travel blind and
reckless along corridors
meant to house light, not shadow.
Peering out, he sees figures
clothed in pastels with black masks,
who cast a hesitant glance
before showing him their backs.
As they make their quick retreat,
he wonders if their dwellings
come equipped with an array
of locks, rusted-through, like his.