It is dark. Entering the cold, gloomy cage is a stark difference from the warm, open world outside. A sharp breeze cuts through, disturbing the abandoned newspapers and dead leaves littering the ground. Dark corners hide shadows and animals, waiting to pounce and attack at the sight of fresh meat. Cloaked underneath sit benches, clawed away at by animals to reveal a fungi jungle resting underneath. Frost grows on the windows as it stretches to each corner, stray light from lampposts barely peak in from the the warm world outside. Insects fly around to try soak it all up. They try, and fail. Dying in the process. Flickering lights above barely add anything to help. Tall metal bars that are chilled to the touch line the cage. Bars that offer some sort of stability or safety in such an unknown world. Wheezes of the sick and dying break through the stale air as a demand to be heard over others sufferings. Trees outside stand still. Patiently waiting for the cage to leave so they can breathe a sigh of relief. Wheels begin to hiss as they pick up momentum, turning the cranks to push itself along. Rails underneath scratch against the floor, pulling against the metal the further along it travels. Dragging it down. Strange and foreign smells are in the air. Smells like the ones you would find in a zoo, or in the wild. Silent air, unmoving air as it waits in anticipation for something to happen, someone to get hurt. Viruses and bacteria emerge from the shadows at the sight of the fresh meat. Clambering over each other to find it’s new mark, or to escape from something. Across the room lies an animal. On a metal chair. Poised and ready to attack. Sitting so silently and patiently, but it doesn’t pounce. It doesn’t move. Instead it watches, and waits for the right moment to kill when it puts the people in their place and has the animal kingdom on top. Teeth protruding out of its mouth, reflect off the frail light. Small groaning noises escape it from the weight of their teeth dragging them to the ground. Arms forced to carry them, while the legs just follow along like lifeless limbs. Crippling under society’s pressure. The burden placed on the chair similar to the burden on society, that is forced to carry the dead weight of their dead legs. Dangerous. Savage. Animals.

Listen. Shrill hyena laughter jostles the cage as it petrifies the air, booming over the deafening wind beating against the cage. Shaking to the core the trees outside that seem to be standing still. Limbs twist and jerk as they spastically move around in an effort to communicate. Swinging through the air. Heckling Aggressive. Crazy. They think they are the only ones in the world, yet without humans they wouldn’t be able to understand what’s happening around them, too brain dead to just listen with their ears. What if they are planning an attack or an escape? If only they weren’t animals and were humans, capable of formulating and executing plans. If only they were capable of formulating words instead of mouthing them in hopes someone will understand. If only they were capable of doing something other than pointing to their ears to prove their animalistic existence. Monsters. Animals like them feed off our successes just to get a taste of what of what it is like to be able to function in society. They only drag us down to feel better about themselves when instead they should just stay at home. Stay out of our way. Leave our world and create their own damaged one. That way the world would finally live in a thriving society rather than a disabled animal world. An opportunity for perfection.

It is speeding up, the cage appears to be going faster and faster inside, but outside is a different story. Trees outside appear to stand still. Unaware of the horrors inside this cage that feed of of fear, and thrive on the pain they inflict onto others. However this peace is disturbed again. Voices bounce around the cage that appear to have no source. Getting louder. They appear to get louder and multiply as they fill the space up drowning the animals in it. Repeating the same few sentences over and over again, so the animals can understand as they get more impatient with each one. No where is safe from the torture. Until it stops. Quiet resumes again. There’s a certain breed that hear “special” voices. Barking mad they are. Instead of allowing the cool, crisp professional voice to roll over, they bark at its wanting some sort of action or something to move from the shadows. They see shadows as prey to chase and hunt down as if they are a threat. Dogs will never learn to keep their madness to themselves. Uncertain of which are real and what ones are trapped in their head, they choose to bark at them all in order to be thorough. Mental health. Hiding behind the term as a life ring to keep them barking crazy and not be punished for their actions. Insane. Freak. Schizo. Crawling out from the dark hole it rested in, you see it. Light. Light begins to fade into this cold, dark cage from the carriages window. Finally the sun begins to rise and leave it’s mark.

Look. A silent owl. Camouflaging from the madness, hiding from the light. Fading into the black background of the cracked leather seats. Hearing everything, but seeing nothing as they quietly observe the vulnerable prey. The rest of the animals appear oblivious to the dangerous predator appearing to analyse every move and sound made, waiting to swoop in and attack. Hiding behind black rims of eyes to try and seem human. But no. Animals like that can’t hide their nature from the world. Pretending to be vulnerable. Pretending to be innocent. They can’t hide the truth behind those dark glasses that they are animals. Lying to themselves that they are like everyone else, but they are nothing. Feral. Monstrous. Beast. Scratching it’s way in, the light unravels the carriage. Chilled bars are revealed as handholds. Teeth protruding from the mouth is revealed as a metal chair. Spastic limbs are a form communication. Barking dogs suffer from voices in their head. An all-watching owl has black glasses and a white cane.

And then you catch the lingering stares and nasty looks thrown towards those who communicate a little differently, and look a little differently. You see the harm it causes. You choose to change. Some see them as animals, but you see the disabled and mentally ill as people who have a life and have a purpose. You choose to stand up.