All day I am stared down, laughed at and mimicked. Stuck behind bars, I try to say hello, but all they hear is a roar. I’m not as fierce as I appear, but they’re scared of me, and I’m not allowed to cuddle up to them, to show them who I truly am. I yearn to be free, to go on a long run and splash in a stream. But I can’t, for I am held captive. Day after day, it’s always the same. I wake up to see all of them laughing at me: at the way my mane blows in the wind, the way unwanted flies are always buzzing around me, and the way I carry myself as I try to escape the onlookers. To my left are the zebras, and to my right, the bears. All so different, we are placed together, for they think we relate. They believe that since we walk on the same ground and breathe the same air, we must be similar, when in reality, we couldn’t be more different. Not only do we look different, we come from different prides and we all communicate in different ways. The days continue, and I go to sleep again and again, signifying the next day where although they might move the sea lions, nothing more important than that will happen.

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