Feet pounded the pavement surrounding me as the crowd swept forward in hysterical speed. The target, a secluded plush area, lay behind sturdy iron bars that towered over all who stood before them. I could have reached out and touched the tsunami like waves rippling the air around a herd of humans terrorizing the anterior gate. With blood stained fists and over-worked hearts, the antagonizers battled their metal foe.  Shouts of agony and despair tore at their throats until all that remained was reduced to a mere squeak. I stood still. That singularly remained. Breathe in, breathe out. My feet heartlessly planted in the unsympathetic concrete as deep as the pockets of the men who built this prison. My heart, light as the wind under a birds wings, glanced upon the desolate chambers of isolation in which these men retrained the instinctual beauty of animalistic nature. The heat-struck penguins of Antarctica, roaring kings of Africa, and desirable pandas from China, all concealed in depressive captivity. Day by day, week by week, gawking visitors with surprise struck eyes and frightful shrieks take a peek at our legal display of kidnapping. Adolescents, reeking of cotton candy and contaminated with bodily fluids, donate their concerning amount of germs to any object within arm’s reach. Blinding flashes escape the camera of an elderly man and his mate as they pass with dropped jaws and clicking tongues. “My my,” they’ll say, “how fascinating.” How fascinating in deed, to find such amusement in such sorrow. Cage after cage, victim after victim, we selfishly cackle, leaving the sheath over our eyes. So, I stood still. That singularly remained. Breathe in, breathe out. Carefully fumbling the keys in my pocket, I indulged in the horror I previously gave birth to. All it took was a few turns of a stolen set of keys, branded with the numerals belonging to the enclosures they exposed. Tomorrow mornings newscaster will call this a catastrophe. Headliners will claim a “group of innocents were stomped to death by an exotic herd of immoral animals.” “They should be put down! Killed! An eye for an eye!” the materialistic and disengaged reporters will shout from behind the safety of their mahogany desk. Tomorrow, this stampede of relentless karma will be a minuscule issue in the priority lacking view of our world.  As for now, I will count the vindictive victims piling up as steps towards justice. One, two, three, four… monsters fell to the ground at the hands of natural order. Five, six, seven, eight… less indulgers of these sadistic dystopias. Nine, ten, eleven, twelve… Justice.